Heralds with a client
Heralds with a client, but I know he’ll want to talk with you. Can you hold for just a moment? While I waited, I stared out the kitchen window at the garden. The morning frost had settled on the rose bushes, making everything look crystalline and new. It felt symbolic somehow, like the world was being reborn right before my eyes. Dela. Harold’s warm voice came through the phone. What a pleasant surprise. How are you, dear? I’m well, Harold. I need to ask you something important about the house. Of course. What’s on your mind? I took a deep breath. If I wanted to change the locks on my property, legally speaking, what would I need to do? There was a pause. Well, as the property owner, you have every right to change locks, install security systems, whatever you feel is necessary. Is everything all right?
Has there been a break-in?
No breakin, but I want to make sure I understand my rights. Marcus and his family have been living here, but the deed is still in my name, correct? Absolutely. We discussed transferring it several times over the years, but you never signed the papers. The property remains entirely yours. Dela, is something wrong? I could hear the concern in his voice. Harold had known me since Marcus was in high school. He’d seen me struggle through my husband’s illness, watched me work multiple jobs to keep us afloat, witnessed my quiet strength through decades of challenges. Nothing’s wrong, I said. And for the first time in years, I meant it. I’m just reclaiming what’s mine. I see. Harold was quiet for a moment. Would you like me to prepare any documentation? Perhaps a formal notice of changes in living arrangements. That would be helpful.
How quickly could you have something ready?
I could have papers drawn up by tomorrow afternoon
I could have papers drawn up by tomorrow afternoon. But Dela, are you sure about this? I know how much your family means to you. I looked around the kitchen at the cabinet doors Rya had complained were outdated. at the countertops she’d said needed replacing. At the breakfast nook where she’d humiliated me just days ago. My family means everything to me, Harold. That’s exactly why I’m doing this. After hanging up with Harold, I drove to town for the first time in months. I’d gotten into the habit of staying home, of making myself smaller and smaller to avoid Rya’s criticisms about my appearance, my choices, my very existence. But today felt different. My first stop was Miller’s Hardware, where old Pete Miller had been selling locks and keys for 40 years.
