Patrick squeezed his son’s hand.
“No, buddy. Grandma decided to sell it.”
“Why?”
Because we treated her like a caretaker in a home we had already claimed.
Because I let my wife’s assumptions become my own.
Because I thought love meant she would always make room for us, even when we never made room for her.
He could not say those things at the restaurant table.
“Because she wanted a change,” he said.
Their daughter considered that.
“Is she happy?”
Patrick looked down.
“I don’t know.”
After dinner, he called Barbara.
This time she answered.
“Patrick.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask.”
“Did my mother sell because of the cruise?”
Barbara paused.
“That isn’t for me to interpret.”
“You knew she was selling before she left?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Several weeks.”
“Was she pressured?”
“No.”
“Did she understand what she was doing?”
Barbara’s voice became firmer.
“She understood perfectly.”
Patrick shut his eyes.
“I need to speak with her.”
“You should give her some time.”
“She won’t answer.”
“That may be her answer for tonight.”
“Barbara—”
“She was very clear about one thing. She did not want the sale turned into a family negotiation.”
He said nothing.
Barbara softened.
“She was sad, Patrick. Not uncertain. There’s a difference.”
After the call ended, Patrick sat on the edge of the hotel bed, holding the phone loosely in his hand.
Megan stood by the window.
“She’s making us the villains,” she said.
Patrick looked up.
“Is she?”
Megan turned around.
For a moment, he thought she might argue. Instead, she sat in the chair opposite him.
