Alicia’s fingers tightened around the folder.
“Why?”
I smiled.
“Oh, I thought we were discussing what’s best for me.”
Thomas pulled out the chair beside mine.
“So I thought Dorothy should have someone here who understands paperwork.”
Alicia laughed nervously.
“That really isn’t necessary.”
Thomas looked at the folder beside the butter dish.
“Perhaps not.”
He sat down.
Mark remained standing.
“Mom, what is this?”
I looked at my son.
My only child.
The boy who used to sleep with one foot sticking out from underneath his blanket.
The boy who cried the first time he fell off his bicycle.
The boy Raymond taught to throw a baseball.
The boy I had sat beside in emergency rooms and parent-teacher conferences and graduation ceremonies.
The boy who called me every Sunday at five.
Eleven minutes.
Exactly eleven.
And now he couldn’t look me in the eye.
“I thought,” I said quietly, “that we could all be honest today.”
Alicia immediately jumped in.
“Mother D, you’re misunderstanding.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“You know how worried we are about you.”
I looked at her fingers resting on mine.
Then at Mark.
“I heard you.”
The room went silent.
Alicia’s face changed first.
Not much.
Just enough.
Her smile froze.
Mark’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“I heard you this morning.”
Alicia slowly withdrew her hand.
“What do you mean?”
“The phone call.”
Mark swallowed.
“You answered?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t say anything.”
“No.”
Alicia looked at Mark.
Mark looked at Alicia.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Alicia whispered, “How much?”
I picked up my notepad.
“Nineteen minutes.”
Her face went completely white.
Mark sat down.
I opened the notepad.
“I wrote everything down.”
Thomas glanced at the pages but said nothing.
I looked at Alicia.
“The folder.”
Her hand moved instinctively toward it.
“The brochure.”
She didn’t move.
“Silver Meadows.”
Still nothing.
“Bruce.”
Alicia’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
Mark rubbed both hands over his face.
“Mom…”
I raised one finger.
“Not yet.”
My voice wasn’t loud.
That seemed to frighten him more.
“You will have your turn.”
I looked at Alicia.
“You said I would sign whatever you put in front of me.”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You said if I wanted to read it, Mark should take my glasses to get cleaned.”
“I was joking.”
“You said your cousin would give you a family discount at Silver Meadows.”
“It was just an idea.”
“You said my house would sell for one-eighty.”
Alicia said nothing.
“And you said that money would pay for a lake trip, a boat, and everything else.”
Mark suddenly stood.
“Alicia.”
She snapped at him.
“What?”
“You said you hadn’t talked to Bruce.”
“I didn’t!”
I turned to Thomas.
“That’s why I asked him to come.”
Thomas opened his briefcase.
“I spoke with Bruce at 8:03 this morning.”
Alicia’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“He was under the impression that the property would be listed within the next thirty days.”
Mark stared at his wife.
“You talked to Bruce?”
Alicia didn’t answer.
Thomas continued calmly.
“He also told me he had already discussed possible staging.”
Mark looked sick.
“What the hell, Alicia?”
She slammed her palm on the table.
“Because somebody had to think ahead!”
The words exploded out of her.
For the first time that morning, her polite voice disappeared.
“Do you know how much money is sitting in that house?”
I stared at her.
She realized what she’d said.
But she couldn’t take it back.
Thomas quietly closed his briefcase.
Mark looked at me.
“Mom, I swear—”
I held up my hand.
“Stop swearing.”
He stopped.
“You don’t get to swear to me today.”
I reached beneath the table and pulled out a small envelope.
I placed it in front of him.
He stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Your forty thousand dollars.”
His expression changed.
“Mom…”
“I kept the records.”
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of the bank transfer from four years earlier.
Underneath it was a handwritten note.
