When I got off, they were waiting for me with a small suitcase that I didn’t recognize.
“We’ve packed a few essentials for you,” Melissa said with a smile. “Brandon and I thought we’d take you to Sunny Pines today. It’s a beautiful retirement community just two hours away.”
“I’m not going to any nursing home,” I replied, pouring myself coffee. “This is my home.”
“Mom, be reasonable,” Brandon said. “The paperwork’s done. We’ll sign with the builders next week. You can’t stay here.”
I looked at my son, really looked at him, and I saw nothing of Nicholas in his face. Nothing of the child who had once followed his father into the orchard at dawn, asking endless questions about pollination and pruning. Nothing but a stranger who saw me as a nuisance to be managed.
“I need my medicine from the bathroom,” I said softly. “And I’d like to take some photos.”
“Sure, Mom,” Melissa agreed, relief evident in her voice. “Take whatever personal items you want. We’ll ship the rest later.”
I walked through my house one last time, touching the worn banister that Nicholas had sanded and repainted every five years. The quilt my grandmother made that covered our bed. The window seat where I read stories to my children on rainy afternoons.
I sat in Vincent’s office, watching the clock tick down to one in the afternoon, the time when my children would discover that their carefully laid plan had hit its first snag.
My phone rang: it was the new prepaid phone, whose number they weren’t supposed to know. But Vincent had made sure they received it. I let it ring four times before answering, in a calm voice.
“This is Naomi.”
“Mom.” Brandon’s voice cracked with barely suppressed anger. “What did you do?”
