Sabrina stepped forward.
“You’re blaming Michael for something he didn’t do.”
“I’m holding Michael responsible for his own behavior. I haven’t said he shaved my head.”
She looked away.
There was a knock.
Claire, my longtime executive assistant, opened the door.
“Mrs. Langford, Avery is on the phone.”
I took the call in the corridor.
Avery confirmed that he’d stopped preparing the deeds for execution and had made a written record of my withdrawal of authorization.
No ownership had passed.
The documents could remain in my safe until I decided how they should be disposed of.
“What about the will?” he asked.
“Come to the house tonight. I want to review the entire estate plan.”
“Beatrice, I can begin drafting, but I don’t want you signing something irreversible in the middle of a family crisis.”
“I understand.”
“Then we’ll separate what you want to protect now from what you want to leave when you’re gone.”
“Agreed.”
When I returned to the sitting room, Michael was standing by the window.
Sabrina sat on the sofa, wiping her eyes.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “I want to leave.”
I nodded.
“I think that would be wise.”
He glanced toward Sabrina.
“Can you give us a moment?”
I picked up my purse.
Before leaving, I turned back.
“Michael, your marriage is your decision. I’m not asking you to choose between your wife and me. But what happened to me requires an answer, and it won’t disappear because today’s celebration is expensive.”
He looked at my bare scalp.
“I understand.”
I wasn’t certain he did.
