“Pop, something’s wrong. I need to tell you something, but you have to promise me you’ll stay calm,” he said.

“Lord, son. Talk to me. What happened?” I replied, feeling my blood pressure start to rise.

“I saw Grandma pulling into the Peach Tree Inn on Ponce de Leon Avenue. And she wasn’t alone, Pop. She was with some guys in suits.”

I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Estelle. My Estelle, at the Peach Tree Inn. That motel was known all over the city, and not for its fine accommodations. It couldn’t be. “Are you crazy, boy? Your grandmother is with the doctor right now,” I replied, my voice cracking