Chapter 9
Mom arrived at noon carrying a small plant.
“I asked the nursery for something difficult to kill,” she said.
“You’ve seen my track record.”
“That’s why I asked.”
I took the plant and showed her inside.
She noticed that the silk scarf was gone from the bedroom. She also noticed the photograph on the kitchen wall.
“Grace would like that,” she said.
“I think so.”
We sat on the terrace. Mom told me she had rented an apartment near her sister Denise. She was taking a bookkeeping course so she could return to work without relying on a partner to manage the accounts.
“I used to know how to read every number,” she said. “Then I let Leonard tell me I had more important things to do.”
“You’ll know them again.”
She looked at me.
“That sounds like something I would have said to you.”
“You probably did.”
We both smiled.
I told her I had accepted the home design job. I would work with a small firm on affordable housing projects. The pay was less than at my old job, but I wanted to do it.
“I’m proud of you,” Mom said.
I waited to hear a suggestion for how to improve the choice. None came.
Dad visited the following day. He helped me fix a loose cabinet handle and then asked whether I had spoken with Mom.
“Yes. She came yesterday.”
“Did she seem all right?”
“She’s working on things. You can ask her yourself if you want to know more.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
After he left, I realized they had both asked about each other without asking me to choose one of them. It was a small change. I noticed it because I had spent so many years doing the opposite.
The case against Leonard ended that fall. His records and the missing payments were reviewed in court. He was ordered to repay what he had taken and faced a sentence for the financial fraud.
Patrice called when the final order was entered.
“Your property account will be made whole,” she said. “It may take time to collect every payment, but the obligation is clear.”
I thanked her and sat with the news.
Mom had signed her separate repayment agreement months earlier. She had already made the first payments. Dad had paid for the review and given me complete records of the trust.
Leonard would answer for what he had done. My parents had each taken responsibility for their part.
I no longer had to keep investigating to make someone admit I owned the house.
That weekend, I invited Aunt Celia, Dad, and Mom to dinner.
I was nervous when Mom’s car followed Dad’s through the gate. I had told them both they could leave if being together was too much.
They came inside carrying separate dishes. Mom brought rice. Dad brought a peach pie from the bakery because he knew I would recognize his cooking if he pretended otherwise.
We ate at the kitchen island where I had opened the wooden box.
At first, the conversation stayed on safe things. Celia asked about my new job. Dad described a project his company had finished. Mom told us about Denise’s dog, who had eaten part of a cushion.
Then Dad turned to me.
“When Grace asked me to manage the trust, I promised her you’d know it was yours when the time came,” he said. “I broke that promise. I want to say I’m sorry in front of everyone here.”
I set down my fork.
“Thank you.”
Mom followed.
“I kept her letter and used this place without telling you,” she said. “I was afraid of losing you. I hurt you trying to hold on.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at their faces. They were not asking me to declare that everything was fixed.
“I love you both,” I said. “I want us to keep speaking this plainly.”
Celia lifted her glass.
“Grace would have liked that.”
After dinner, Mom and Dad helped clear the table. They moved around each other carefully, like people who were still learning where they stood. I did not need them to reunite. I needed them to treat each other, and me, honestly.
When the cars left, I washed the last plate and turned off the kitchen lights.
Outside, the desert was quiet.
May you like
Inside, Grandma’s photograph hung on the wall. My suitcases were unpacked. The wooden box sat on a shelf beside the books I had chosen.
I slept well that night.
