Chapter 2
Two Years Earlier
After my husband died, I let Daniel and Brooke move in temporarily.
Temporarily lasted two years.
I paid the taxes. I paid the insurance. The deed had my name on it. Only my name.
Daniel told his friends it was his place.
I heard him in the driveway once, beer in his hand, laughing.
"Yeah, my house. Mom lives with us."
I was sixty-one, in the house I had bought after the funeral, and I had become the guest.
Brooke made rules. Shoes off. Don't use the good glasses. Don't come into the kitchen when she was meal-prepping.
I started eating in my room.
Last Night
It started over a bowl. One of hers. I had used it for soup.
She called him at work. He came home early. He didn't ask what happened. He just started.
Open hand. Thirty times. In front of her.
I tasted blood and said nothing.
I slept sitting up because lying down made my head pound. I listened to them watch television through the wall.
The Next Morning
Daniel left for the office at 7:40. Gray shirt. Coffee. Kissed Brooke at the door.
He didn't look at me.
I waited until his car cleared the corner.
Then I took the folder out of the bottom of my closet. The deed. The tax statements. The cash offer I had not signed.
I drove to the little office on Maple with the faded flag out front.
The woman behind the desk looked at my face and then looked away, the way people do when they don't want to be involved.
She slid the contract toward me.
"This is still good. They're paying cash. We can push it through today if you sign this morning."
She glanced at the recorder on her desk.
"Are you sure?"
I thought about thirty.
May you like
I thought about whose house he thought it was.
I picked up the pen.
