“We thought we were going to buy it from you eventually.”
“That isn’t what we discussed.”
“I know.”
Melissa opened the folder.
“We’ve already started planning.”
She pulled out printed photographs of my rooms with measurements written along the edges. A kitchen estimate. Flooring samples. A sheet comparing mortgage payments.
At the top of one page was an amount much lower than the agent’s estimate.
I looked at Daniel.
“Who decided that price?”
Neither of them answered.
The cold reached through my coat.
Then Daniel said, “I told her you would probably leave it to me anyway.”
Melissa turned toward him.
“You said she wanted us to have it.”
“I said I thought—”
“You said she’d be relieved.”
I stepped back inside and closed the door against the wind.
“Put the folder on the table.”
The dining room was almost empty now. Without my china and brass reindeer, every sound seemed harder.
Daniel laid the papers down.
“Start at the beginning,” I said.
He looked at the place where Howard’s chair had stood.
“After the business fell through, we couldn’t see how we’d ever buy anything. I said this place would be mine someday.”
“While I was upstairs sleeping?”
He nodded.
Melissa folded her arms.
“It wasn’t some terrible scheme. Families help each other.”
“You were already being helped.”
“We needed to plan our lives.”
“So did I.”
Daniel pulled out a chair but didn’t sit.
“She wanted me to ask you about transferring it. I kept saying it wasn’t the right time.”
Melissa gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“You kept telling me you were handling it.”
“And Christmas?” I asked.
Daniel’s eyes filled before he answered.
“She wanted her family to see it as our home.”
Melissa stared at him.
“Don’t make me sound like—”
“You told me if Mom kept hosting, everybody would keep thinking we were just staying here.”
