“Did you?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the photograph of Thomas on my desk.
Madison continued.
“I wanted to save the house. And then Richard started showing me how much money it could make. I thought if we earned enough, you’d change your mind.”
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
“Because you were already planning to sell.”
I swallowed.
“Madison, I spent twenty-three years making decisions about that house. You didn’t trust me to decide what happened to it.”
She cried quietly.
Then she said, “I thought it would always be mine someday.”
I looked out the window.
“That was never a promise I made.”
“I know.”
“And even if I intended to leave it to you, that wouldn’t make it yours while I’m alive.”
She didn’t argue.
For the first time, she seemed to understand.
***
Richard resisted the accounting request at first.
He insisted he’d improved the property’s financial prospects.
He claimed the rental income demonstrated what the house could earn.
He even suggested I should pay him a commission if Alan purchased it because the online listing had increased interest in the area.
My attorney rejected that argument.
Richard had no authority to market my property for rent or sale.
The dispute continued through written communications rather than another confrontation inside the house.
Eventually, Richard provided the complete reservation history.
The figures confirmed the four completed stays and the current booking.
The additional reservations were canceled through the platform’s procedures, with guests notified and refunds arranged as applicable.
Richard also agreed to reimburse documented cleaning, access-security, and repair expenses and to account for the money he’d retained.
Madison and Evan separately arranged to return the funds they’d received.
