The statement hung there.
I leaned toward the laptop.
My parents’ lease had a purchase option. I had asked David to include it. The price was tied to an independent appraisal, with credit for a portion of their rent. They could exercise it if they ever rebuilt their finances.
In four years, they had never asked how it worked.
Perhaps now they had.
Richard looked at David. “Is there a purchase option?”
“Yes,” David said.
“And this man knew about it?”
“You provided him the lease,” David replied.
Terrence spread his hands. “I was trying to put together financing.”
“In your name?” Natalie asked.
“No.”
“Then why did you need to move in?”
He did not answer.
Natalie gripped the tape measure so tightly its metal edge pressed into her palm.
I remembered her satisfaction at dinner. She had looked pleased when Patricia said they needed my old bedroom. It had felt like the familiar contest between us, one more thing she could take while I stayed quiet.
Now she looked at her husband as though she had never seen him clearly.
“I thought we were staying for a month,” she said.
“That was the plan.”
“You told me Mom and Dad had asked us to help them get organized. You said we could use the room because Nicole never stays overnight anymore.”
