We can list it next week,” Derek pressed on, mistaking my shock for compliance. “I have a friend in real estate, Linda. She’s great. We could probably get you moved within a month.”
We. He kept saying we like he owned my house. Like he owned my life. Like I was already a ghost in my own home.
“And where exactly would I go while the house is being sold? Who packs up forty years of my life? Who packs up your father’s books?” I asked.
“You could stay with us temporarily,” Jennifer offered, though her eyes tightened at the corners, betraying her lie. Her tone suggested she hoped I wouldn’t. “But the facility has a room opening up on the first of the month.”
I nodded slowly. My hands were trembling under the table, so I clasped them together until the knuckles turned white. “Let me think about it.”
Derek smiled, a smug, satisfied curling of his lips. He clearly thought he’d won. He thought I was just a frail old woman who didn’t understand finance, who would be grateful for his ‘management’. “Great. We’ll bring Linda by on Wednesday at 10:00 AM to sign the papers. Have the deed ready.”
They left twenty minutes later. They didn’t even stay for coffee.
I watched Derek’s leased BMW pull out of my driveway, the taillights fading into the Sacramento night. Then, I sat in my living room in the dark for exactly ten minutes.
Read more:
