“Yes, everyone.
We’re the ones who’ll have to deal with it.”
I let the sentence sit there.
There was the real wound beneath all the language about helping.
My life had become future labor in Wesley’s imagination.
My home was a task he wanted completed before it became inconvenient.
I slid the second document out of the envelope.
“This is the notice my attorney sent to the real estate office.”
Wesley did not touch it.
“The agent has been informed that you have no authority to discuss my property on my behalf.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I never signed anything.”
“I know.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that you were trying to get far enough ahead that signing would feel like the last small step instead of the first enormous decision.”
He opened his mouth.
Cora spoke before he could.
“We only asked for an estimate.”
Wesley turned toward her sharply.
I did not.
I kept my eyes on him.
“An estimate?” I asked.
Cora froze.
My daughter whispered, “You had someone value the house?”
Wesley rubbed his forehead.
“Not officially.”
Cora tried to repair it.
“Just a range.
Based on the neighborhood.”
I nodded once.
That was the problem with secret plans.
Once people became frightened, they stopped coordinating their stories.
I took out the third page.
It was a copy of the letter sent to Meadowlark Springs.
Cora looked at the logo at the top, but from where she sat the details were too small to read.
“You contacted them too?” Wesley asked.
“I contacted myself back into my own life.”
His cheeks flushed.
“This is ridiculous.”
“No.
This is paperwork.
Paperwork is usually very calm.”
My daughter covered her mouth, perhaps to hide a reaction.
Wesley looked toward the restaurant entrance as though considering leaving.
Then the server arrived with the check folder.
“Excuse me,” she said carefully.
“Is everything all right here?”
Wesley immediately reached for the folder.
“We’re fine.”
I looked at the server.
“Was the card attached to this bill ending in the same four digits shown here?”
I held up the bank alert on my phone without exposing any other information.
The server checked discreetly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That card belongs to me.
I did not authorize this dinner.”
