When Gabriella accompanied me for the final viewing, she opened the balcony door.
“Well?”
I stepped outside.
The courtyard smelled of freshly cut grass.
A woman below was watering flowers.
Somewhere nearby, a child was practicing the piano badly.
I smiled.
“I think James would have liked this.”
Gabriella stood beside me.
“Do you?”
I looked around.
Then nodded.
“Yes. I do.”
The closing took place several weeks later.
I signed the final papers, reviewed the settlement figures, and handed over the keys according to the closing arrangements.
The sale proceeds belonged to me.
I used part of them to complete the purchase of my condominium and arranged for the remainder to support my retirement.
No money was transferred to Michael or Vanessa.
They hadn’t asked again.
And I hadn’t offered.
Before leaving the old house, I walked through the rooms one last time.
The guest bedroom where Michael had slept as a boy.
The kitchen where James taught him to make pancakes.
The hallway where Noah had once raced his toy cars along the floorboards.
I stopped at the dining-room doorway.
That first evening with Vanessa seemed very far away now.
The stew.
The wedding china.
Michael staring silently at his plate.
The phone call to Gabriella.
