I loved my son.
But increasingly, my relationship with his wife felt like being on call for a company I didn’t work for.
I answered anyway.
“Hello, Harper.”
“Barbara, we need to discuss the condo.”
No greeting.
No asking how I was enjoying my vacation.
Just business.
“What about it?”
“My parents are here.”
I frowned.
“Here where?”
“At the beach.”
I looked toward the ocean.
“That’s nice.”
There was a pause.
“At your condo, Barbara.”
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood.
Then I heard something behind me.
Wheels.
The unmistakable sound of luggage rolling across tile.
I turned.
Through the sliding glass doors, I saw a large navy suitcase being dragged down my hallway.
“Harper, why is there someone in my apartment?”
“Because we just arrived. I told you my parents wanted to spend some time at the ocean.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I’m telling you now.”
I stood.
“How did you get inside?”
“Mark had the code.”
