Behind her, Andrew drew a breath through his teeth.
I turned another page. A clause required the seller to deliver vacant possession at closing. Another allowed the purchaser’s family to remain as occupants.
They had made room for themselves in a house from which they had already removed me.
“Her debts,” I said.
Rebecca reached for the papers.
I pulled them against my chest.
“The bills you brought me. If she has all this money, why does she need mine?”
“She has assets. That isn’t the same thing.”
My coffee had left a brown circle beneath its cup. I fixed my eyes on it until the edges of the room stopped shifting.
Then I picked up my phone.
Andrew stood.
“Can we talk before you do that?”
“We have been talking.”
“I mean without anyone else.”
For one foolish second, I wanted him to come around the table and stand beside me. I wanted a gesture small enough that I could build an excuse around it.
He stayed where he was.
I called my attorney, Nora Bell.
When she answered, I said, “Someone has signed a contract to sell my house.”
Rebecca’s expression changed. Not fear yet. Calculation.
Nora asked whether I had signed anything.
“No.”
“Have you given anyone authority to sign for you?”
“No.”
“Then put the originals somewhere safe. Photograph every page. You don’t have to argue with them.”
My knees loosened at that last sentence.
Rebecca walked toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Andrew asked.
“To call my mother before she gets confused.”
Nora heard her.
“Tell me the purchaser’s name,” she said.
