He looked at Vanessa.
Then back at me.
“Whether you might want us to take over the house someday.”
I stared at him.
“While I’m still living in it?”
“I didn’t mean right away.”
“But your wife arrived demanding my bedroom.”
He covered his face.
Gabriella quietly closed her folder.
“I think the three of you need to resolve some expectations before we discuss the listing.”
I nodded.
“You’re right.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“We have expectations because Michael’s your son.”
“And I have expectations because I’m a person,” I answered. “One who is still alive, still capable of making decisions, and not prepared to surrender her bedroom or her bank account.”
For once, Vanessa didn’t have an immediate reply.
I turned to Gabriella.
“Please prepare the listing agreement. I’ll review it with my attorney, and we’ll arrange the next steps.”
Gabriella nodded.
“I’ll email everything this afternoon.”
After she left, Michael approached me.
“Mom, I really didn’t know Vanessa would say those things.”
I looked at him.
“But you knew she’d been discussing this house as though it were hers.”
He didn’t answer.
I picked up my coffee.
“That’s what I need you to think about, Michael.”
By lunchtime, Vanessa had locked herself in the guest room.
Michael went upstairs to speak with her.
I could hear their voices through the ceiling while I washed the breakfast dishes.
