Signatures.
Stamps.
No dramatic seal.
No music.
No thunder.
Just proof.
I removed the copy of the recorded deed and placed it on the table, angled toward the blonde woman.
“I’m the owner.
Only me.”
She checked the document without touching it at first, then leaned closer.
My brother’s wife looked at my mother.
“You told me this was being made available to us.”
My mother exhaled impatiently.
“It can be.”
I looked at her.
“No, it can’t.”
She gave me the same expression she’d used throughout my childhood whenever I challenged something she considered obvious.
“Your brother has a baby coming.”
“I know.”
“They need more room.”
“Then they need to find a house.”
Her voice rose.
“You have one.”
“Yes.
I do.”
The simplicity of the answer seemed to anger her more than shouting would have.
She pointed toward the second bedroom.
“You don’t even use half of this place.”
“That doesn’t make it yours to give away.”
My brother’s wife stepped backward as though she wanted distance from the argument.
My mother looked at her, then back at me.
“I was trying to help your family.”
“By entering my house without permission?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I reached into my pocket and placed my phone beside the deed.
“I watched you unlock the door.”
That finally silenced her.
I didn’t need to play the recording.
We all knew what was on it.
The blonde woman’s face tightened.
My brother’s wife lowered her eyes.
My mother said, “So you’re spying on me now?”
I almost smiled.
“It’s my security camera.
In my house.”
She opened her mouth, but I kept going.
“Where did you get the key?”
For the first time since I’d arrived, she didn’t have an immediate answer.
My brother’s wife looked at her.
“Mom?”
My mother shifted her weight.
“I found it.”
“Where?”
“At your apartment.”
That made my stomach turn.
I still kept the apartment near the clinic, partly because I hadn’t completely moved and partly because it had made keeping the bungalow private easier.
