Lauren took a step toward her. “You told me everything was ready.”
“I told you the file was under review.”
“You took my deposit.”
“I took a marketing retainer.”
“You said the buyer had been approved.”
“I said the buyer’s agent had submitted proof of funds.”
Nora’s face had gone white. She opened her phone and began scrolling.
Michael looked at Lauren. “Who is the buyer?”
She said nothing.
“Who?”
My stomach tightened before the answer came.
“My mother,” Lauren said.
The words were almost inaudible.
Michael stared at her.
“Your mother is buying my house?”
“She has the money.”
“She has been in assisted living for two years.”
“She can move.”
“She cannot sign a mortgage.”
“She doesn’t need one.”
“You were going to use her money to buy the house and put it in your name.”
Lauren said nothing.
A small sound came from the living room. One of the children had paused the movie.
I heard footsteps.
“Dad?” my granddaughter called. “Why is everybody yelling?”
Michael turned instantly toward the archway.
“Go back to the movie, sweetheart.”
“Is Grandpa mad?”
“No.”
I looked at him. He was standing between the children and the table now, his shoulders drawn tight.
