“That’s not what I said.”
“You requested copies of her authorization forms.”
Vanessa took a step back from him.
“Daniel.”
He turned toward her.
“I was trying to protect the house.”
“From whom?”
He looked at me.
The answer was there before he spoke.
“From being sold.”
I almost laughed, but the sound never came.
“I never tried to sell it.”
“You were going to,” he said. “You kept talking about downsizing.”
“I said I might move closer to the clinic.”
“And leave us with nothing?”
There it was.
Not concern.
Not love.
The belief beneath every conversation we had avoided.
Daniel did not see himself as a son living in his mother’s house.
He saw himself as an owner waiting for an obstacle to disappear.
Vanessa’s voice grew sharper.
“You said the house would be ours when she moved.”
“I said we would figure it out.”
“You promised me.”
Leonard looked from one to the other.
“The estate records also include correspondence between Daniel and a private lender.”
Daniel’s face drained again.
I felt the photograph in my hand soften further.
“What lender?”
Daniel said nothing.
Vanessa whispered his name.
Leonard opened the leather portfolio and removed several pages.
“Mr. Brooks used the property as collateral for a business loan.”
The rain seemed to fall farther away.
I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head.
“It was temporary.”
“You used my house?”
“I was going to repay it.”
