Mom, the knocking was more insistent now. Mom, can you hear me? I folded the newspaper carefully and walked to the kitchen door. Through the glass panel, I could see them all crowded on the small porch. Marcus looking bewildered, Rya looking furious, the children confused and tired from their long flight, and Sarah the babysitter standing awkwardly to one side with her overnight bag. I unlocked the door and opened it just wide enough to see them clearly. “Hello,” I said pleasantly. “How was your trip, “Mom, thank God,” Marcus stepped forward. “Something’s wrong with the locks. ” and he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he looked past me into the kitchen. What happened to the furniture? I glanced back casually as if seeing the room for the first time.
Oh, that I redecorated. You what? Rya pushed past Marcus, trying to get a better view. Where’s my dining set?
Where are my chairs
Where are my chairs? I sold them, I said simply. They didn’t suit me. Rya’s face went white, then red, then a modeled purple color I’d never seen before. You sold my furniture. You can’t do that. That was expensive. It was purchased for my house. I corrected gently. So, technically, it was mine to sell. Grandma Dela. Emma’s small voice cut through the tension. Can we come in? I need to use the bathroom. I looked down at my granddaughter. Sweet Emma with her sun-st hair and confused eyes. She was innocent in all this, just a child caught in an adult mess. “Of course, sweetheart,” I said, stepping aside to let her in. ”
As Emma scured past me, Jake started to follow, but Rya grabbed his arm. “No,” she said firmly. “We all go in together,” I raised an eyebrow. “Actually, you don’t all go in together. ” The words hung in the air like a bomb that hadn’t exploded yet.
Marcus stared at me with his mouth slightly open. Sarah shifted nervously from foot to foot. Even little Jake seemed to sense that something monumental was happening. But it was Rya’s reaction that was the most dramatic. Her face went through a series of expressions. Confusion, disbelief, rage, and then something that looked almost like panic. Your house? She laughed, but it was a brittle, hysterical sound. This is our house. We live here. We pay the mortgage. I tilted my head thoughtfully. Actually, you don’t pay the mortgage. There is no mortgage.
