The following morning, I woke earlier than usual.
The house was quiet.
I made coffee and sat beside the window.
For the first time in several days, I didn't immediately check my phone.
I wanted to think.
September twenty-sixth was approaching.
Cullen and Blythe would return from Hawaii.
Laurelai and Miles had arranged the celebration.
Thirty-four people had been invited.
And everyone seemed to expect me to hand over the keys.
I looked at the small calendar hanging near the refrigerator.
The date was marked with a red circle.
I had not written it there.
Margaret had marked it when she showed me the invitation.
I picked up my pen.
I considered crossing it out.
Then I stopped.
Why should I?
The gathering was not my responsibility.
But neither was it something I needed to fear.
I decided I would be there.
I would open my own front door if I wanted to.
I would speak to whoever arrived.
And I would not pretend that the house belonged to someone else.
I called Richard that morning.
I told him about the invitation and the expected guests.
He listened carefully.
"Are you comfortable attending?"
"I live there."
He gave a small laugh.
"Fair enough."
I explained that I wanted to make sure all my paperwork was in order.
He told me to bring the original documents to the office again if necessary.
I asked whether I should provide copies to anyone.
"Not unless you decide there is a reason. Keep the originals secure."
I thanked him.
Then I asked him one more thing.
"Richard, if Cullen tells everyone that the house belongs to him, what should I do?"
"Remain calm. You don't need to argue about legal ownership in front of a crowd. The records are what matter."
I appreciated his advice.
After we finished speaking, I went to the beach house.
I wanted to prepare it.
Not for Cullen.
For myself.
I opened the windows.
I cleaned the kitchen.
I wiped the dining table.
I picked up a few leaves that had blown onto the porch.
I removed the unfamiliar flowers from the coffee table.
I didn't throw away Blythe's things.
I placed them carefully inside one of the moving boxes.
Then I looked at the bedroom.
The white bedspread was still there.
I folded it and placed it in a closet.
I took out my own bedding.
The familiar pale blue set Nile had always liked.
I made the bed.
I returned the bedside table to its original position.
Then I placed a small photograph of Nile beside the lamp.
It wasn't the same photograph that had been hidden in the drawer.
It was another one.
He was standing on the porch with a paintbrush in his hand.
I had taken it during the summer he painted the front door.
He looked tired.
Happy.
Completely unaware of how much I would miss him.
I smiled.
"You're still here," I whispered.
I don't know why I said it aloud.
Perhaps because the house felt different without him.
Perhaps because I needed to remind myself that I wasn't alone in the way I had felt that morning.
I went downstairs.
I checked the locks.
I placed the new keys in a small bowl beside my handbag.
Then I sat on the porch.
The sea was calm.
A man was walking his dog.
Two children were riding bicycles along the road.
Everything looked peaceful.
I wondered whether Cullen remembered the first time he visited the beach house as a little boy.
He had been fascinated by the ocean.
He wanted to know why the water never stopped moving.
Nile had told him that some things continued whether people were watching or not.
I remembered that sentence.
It seemed more meaningful now.
My phone rang.
Blythe.
I answered.
"Hello?"
"Eleanor, can we talk?"
Her voice sounded tired.
"Of course."
She took a breath.
"I don't understand why you're doing this."
I looked toward the driveway.
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you refusing to let us move in?"
I remained quiet for a moment.
Then I answered.
"Because nobody asked me."
She sighed.
"Cullen said you had agreed."
"He was mistaken."
"But we planned everything."
"I understand."
"We gave up our apartment."
I had heard that several times.
"I am sorry you made that decision before confirming where you were going to live."
She became silent.
Then she said:
"You're making us look foolish."
I looked down at my hands.
"Blythe, I didn't tell anyone you owned my house."
She didn't answer.
I continued.
"I didn't announce your move. I didn't send invitations. I didn't put a miniature of my property on a wedding cake."
There was a pause.
Then she said something that surprised me.
"That cake was Cullen's idea."
I sat still.
I hadn't expected that answer.
"Was it?"
"Yes. He wanted something personal."
I looked at the blue front door visible through the window.
I thought about Cullen choosing to put our beach house on their wedding cake.
Perhaps he really believed the house would become his.
Perhaps someone had convinced him it was already arranged.
But neither possibility changed the facts.
"I see," I said.
Blythe sounded frustrated.
"Can you at least tell me what you expect us to do?"
I answered honestly.
"Find a home you can afford and arrange it properly."
She gave a short laugh.
"That's easy for you to say."
I didn't respond.
She continued.
"You have two houses."
I looked toward the living room.
"That doesn't mean you own either one."
She ended the call.
I placed the phone beside me.
I was beginning to understand that Blythe viewed the beach house differently from the way I did.
To her, it was a beautiful property.
A valuable asset.
A comfortable place to begin married life.
To me, it was the house Nile and I had rebuilt after a hurricane.
It was where we had raised our son during summers.
It was where he had painted the blue door.
It was where I still went when I needed to remember the man I had loved.
The same building.
Two very different meanings.
Later that afternoon, I received a message from Miles.
He apologized for the confusion.
He said he had assumed Cullen had handled the arrangements.
He also asked whether I would still be attending the celebration.
I read the message twice.
Then I replied.
"I will be at my house."
He didn't respond.
I put the phone away.
That evening, I called Margaret.
I told her I had decided to be there on the twenty-sixth.
She offered to come over.
I thanked her but said I wanted to handle the gathering myself.
She understood.
Before leaving the beach house, I walked through every room.
I checked the windows.
I checked the locks.
I checked the drawer where I kept the original documents.
The cream-colored envelope was still there.
I removed it and placed it in a secure folder.
Then I added Nile's handwritten note.
I didn't know exactly what I would say when Cullen returned.
I didn't know whether he would apologize.
I didn't know whether he would demand the keys again.
But I knew I needed to be prepared.
I placed the folder inside my handbag.
Then I looked at the living room mantel.
Nile's photograph stood in the center.
The same place it had occupied for fourteen years.
I touched the frame.
For a moment, I imagined what he might say if he were sitting beside me.
Perhaps he would tell me not to be afraid.
Perhaps he would remind me that being a mother didn't mean surrendering every boundary.
I took a slow breath.
Then I turned off the light.
I was no longer planning to give anyone the keys.
I was simply going to let everyone see the truth for themselves.
And September twenty-sixth was coming.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Twelve Days After My Son Announced His Wedding, I Received a Message That Made Me Question Everything He Had Told His New Wife
My Only Son Called to Announce His Wedding, but One Casual Sentence Made Me Realize I Was No Longer Welcome in His Life
Part 8 of 20
