Chapter 2
"What do you mean this house might not belong to Mom?"
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Dad looked at me.
Mom looked furious.
"Marcus, don't."
He took a breath.
"Claire, she's sixteen. She's old enough to know why you keep using this house against us."
Mom shook her head.
"This is not the time."
Dad looked toward the birthday decorations.
"When is the time?"
She remained silent.
He continued.
"When Maya turns eighteen? When you decide she's not allowed to invite anyone else?"
I clutched the invitations against my chest.
"Will somebody please tell me what's happening?"
Dad's expression softened.
He guided me toward a chair.
"Sit down, sweetheart."
Mom immediately protested.
"Absolutely not."
Dad looked at her.
"Enough."
She stopped.
I had never heard him use that tone with her.
My parents argued sometimes, like everyone else's parents.
But Dad usually tried to keep things peaceful.
He hated shouting.
He hated making me uncomfortable.
And he almost always gave in when Mom became angry.
Today was different.
Dad sat opposite me.
"The house was purchased fifteen years ago."
I nodded.
"I know."
"You were a baby."
He smiled sadly.
"Your grandmother helped us buy it."
Mom laughed sharply.
"Helped?"
Dad ignored her.
"She contributed most of the down payment."
My eyes widened.
"Grandma did?"
He nodded.
"And when we had trouble qualifying for the mortgage, she became involved in the financing arrangements."
I looked toward Mom.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Claire folded her arms.
"Because it has nothing to do with you."
Dad shook his head.
"It does when you use ownership to control who Maya can see."
I felt sick.
Mom looked toward the window.
Then whispered, "Your mother never gave us anything without expecting something."
Dad stared at her.
"What did she expect?"
"Access."
I frowned.
"Access to what?"
Mom turned toward me.
"Our lives."
Dad shook his head.
"She wanted to visit her granddaughter."
Claire laughed bitterly.
"That's how it started."
For a moment, the kitchen went quiet.
Then Mom said something unexpected.
"Your mother wanted you to leave me."
Dad's face changed.
"Claire."
"Don't pretend she didn't."
I looked between them.
"Grandma wanted you divorced?"
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Years ago, we had disagreements."
Mom's eyes filled.
"She never thought I was good enough for you."
I remembered Grandma.
She was seventy-one now.
Warm.
Funny.
Always wearing colorful scarves.
She asked about school.
Sent books.
And never forgot a birthday.
I'd never heard her say anything cruel about Mom.
Not once.
I looked at Dad.
"Is that true?"
He took a slow breath.
"Your grandmother questioned some decisions your mother and I made."
Claire interrupted.
"She accused me of marrying you for money."
Dad's jaw tightened.
"Because you asked her to transfer the house into your name while she was still helping pay for it."
Mom went pale.
I stared at her.
"What?"
Claire pushed away from the counter.
"I was trying to protect my family."
Dad looked exhausted.
"And I was trying to keep us from losing the house."
I swallowed.
"Did we almost lose it?"
He nodded.
"During the financial crisis, my business struggled."
I'd heard stories about that.
Dad owned a construction company.
He built houses and small commercial buildings.
When I was little, the company nearly failed.
But he'd recovered.
I never knew Grandma helped.
Dad continued.
"She paid the overdue mortgage installments."
My eyes widened.
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Enough to keep us here."
Mom suddenly reached for her handbag.
"I am not staying here for this."
Dad stood.
"Claire, the guests arrive in an hour."
She stared at him.
"Cancel the party."
I felt my stomach drop.
"What?"
Mom looked at me.
"You've made it impossible."
I stood.
"No!"
My voice cracked.
"It's my birthday!"
She pointed at me.
"Lower your voice."
I began crying.
Dad immediately stepped beside me.
"Claire, the party is happening."
She looked stunned.
He continued.
"You're welcome to celebrate with us. But you will not cancel Maya's birthday to punish her."
Mom's eyes narrowed.
"Then don't expect me to smile when your mother walks through that door."
Dad took a breath.
"I'm not asking you to pretend."
He looked toward the invitations.
"I'm asking you to behave respectfully."
Mom grabbed her handbag.
Then walked toward the hallway.
At the doorway, she turned.
"You have no idea what your mother did to me."
Dad looked at her.
"Then tell the truth."
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then walked away.
I stared after her.
My chest hurt.
I had wanted a birthday party.
Instead, I was learning that everything I believed about my family might be wrong.
Dad knelt beside me.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
I wiped my cheeks.
"Is Grandma really coming?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
"Are you going to stop her?"
"No."
I looked toward the invitations.
"What about Mom?"
Dad sighed.
"Your mother is responsible for her choices."
I swallowed.
"Will she be mad at me forever?"
His eyes filled.
He pulled me close.
"None of this is your fault."
I wanted to believe him.
But I knew Mom.
When she was angry, she could go days without speaking to me.
Sometimes she left meals in the refrigerator without saying a word.
Sometimes she told me I had embarrassed her.
Sometimes she acted as though I'd disappeared.
I held Dad tighter.
"Please don't leave me alone with this."
His voice broke.
"I won't."
Then the doorbell rang.
We both froze.
It was only two fifteen.
The guests weren't due until three.
Dad stood.
"I'll get it."
I followed him into the hallway.
When he opened the door, Grandma Evelyn stood outside.
She wore a lavender dress and carried a large wrapped box.
Beside her stood Uncle Raymond.
His silver-streaked beard framed a wide smile.
"Happy birthday, Maya!"
I burst into tears.
Grandma's smile disappeared.
"Oh, sweetheart."
She dropped the gift bag and opened her arms.
I ran toward her.
She held me tightly.
"What's wrong?"
I buried my face against her shoulder.
"Mom doesn't want you here."
Grandma went very still.
Uncle Raymond looked toward Dad.
His smile faded.
Dad stepped forward.
"Come inside."
Grandma hesitated.
"Marcus, I don't want to cause trouble."
I pulled away.
"But you're my family."
Her eyes filled.
I held her hand.
"Please stay."
She looked at Dad.
He nodded.
"You're welcome."
Then I noticed something.
Grandma had a thick envelope tucked beneath the gift box.
Across the front was Dad's name.
The handwriting looked old.
I pointed toward it.
"What's that?"
Grandma's expression changed.
She looked at my father.
Then whispered, "Something I should have given you years ago."
May you like
Dad stared at the envelope.
And when he recognized the handwriting, his face went completely pale.
