Tuesday passed without much happening.
I cleaned the beach house.
I watered the plants.
I checked the locks.
I made sure the original documents were secure.
The routine helped.
It gave me something ordinary to do while my family situation became increasingly complicated.
On Wednesday morning, Miles called.
He sounded tired.
"Eleanor, I wanted to apologize."
I sat down.
"For what?"
"For the way this has been handled."
I listened.
He explained that he had trusted Cullen's explanation.
He had believed the property arrangements were complete.
He had also allowed Laurelai to organize the celebration without confirming anything with me.
"I should have spoken with you first," he said.
I appreciated the apology.
"Yes, you should have."
He didn't become defensive.
Instead, he said:
"I think we've made a mistake."
I looked at the kitchen window.
"That depends on what happens next."
He asked whether I would be willing to speak with him in person.
I agreed.
We arranged to meet at the beach house that afternoon.
When he arrived, I opened the door.
He looked around the living room.
His eyes stopped at Nile's photograph.
"That's a lovely picture."
"Thank you."
He sat down.
I offered him coffee.
He accepted.
For a few minutes, we talked about ordinary things.
Then he placed his cup on the table.
"Eleanor, I want to understand something."
"Go ahead."
"Cullen told us the house was being transferred as a wedding gift. He said the legal work had been arranged earlier in the year."
I nodded.
"I know."
"Did you ever tell him that?"
"No."
Miles looked down.
"Then I don't know where he got that idea."
I thought about the June visit.
The hallway drawer.
The measurements list.
The cream-colored envelope.
"I think he may have seen a document I had prepared."
Miles looked up.
"What kind of document?"
"Something I intended to discuss with him later."
"Was it a deed?"
"No."
He looked confused.
I explained that my attorney had prepared paperwork reflecting my intentions concerning the property.
It was not a completed ownership transfer.
It had not been signed or recorded as a deed.
Miles listened carefully.
Then he asked:
"Could Cullen have misunderstood it?"
"Possibly."
I didn't want to accuse my son of something I couldn't prove.
Miles nodded.
He seemed relieved that I wasn't making an immediate accusation.
Then he said:
"Laurelai has already spent quite a bit arranging the celebration."
I looked at him.
"I know."
"She believes it should still go ahead."
I gave a small smile.
"That is her decision."
He looked uncomfortable.
"Would you be willing to let the guests come?"
I considered the question.
"Yes."
He seemed surprised.
"You would?"
"I have never said they couldn't come."
He nodded slowly.
Then I added:
"But I won't be handing over the house."
His expression changed.
"I understand."
We sat quietly for a moment.
Then he asked whether I would consider allowing Cullen and Blythe to stay for a few weeks.
I shook my head.
"No."
He looked disappointed.
I explained that the situation had already crossed too many boundaries.
I needed time.
I needed space.
And I needed my home to remain mine.
Miles accepted the answer.
Before leaving, he looked once more at Nile's photograph.
"He sounds like he was a good man."
"He was."
Miles nodded.
Then he walked outside.
I watched him get into his car.
For the first time, I felt that someone on Blythe's side might finally understand what was happening.
But I knew Laurelai would not be so easily convinced.
That evening, my phone rang again.
It was her.
I answered.
"Hello, Laurelai."
"Eleanor, Miles told me he visited you."
"He did."
"And he says you're still refusing to cooperate."
I looked at the porch.
"What does cooperating mean?"
"Allowing the children to start their married life."
I took a breath.
"They can start their married life wherever they choose. But they cannot begin it by taking over my home."
She sighed.
"You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."
I didn't answer.
She continued.
"I've already confirmed the arrangements with everyone."
I looked at the invitation.
"Then perhaps you should tell them there has been a misunderstanding."
There was a pause.
"That would be humiliating."
I felt a strange sadness.
She was worried about embarrassment.
Not about the truth.
I answered quietly.
"It would be less humiliating than arriving at someone else's home expecting them to give it away."
She became silent.
Then she ended the call.
I sat down.
I was beginning to understand that Laurelai had built an entire picture of the event in her mind.
She wanted a celebration.
She wanted her daughter to be welcomed into a beautiful home.
She wanted people to see that her family had helped secure a wonderful future for the newlyweds.
And she wanted me to play a part in that picture.
But I wasn't going to.
On Thursday morning, I went to the beach house.
The lawn needed attention.
I trimmed the edges.
I swept the porch.
I cleaned the front windows.
Then I checked the boxes.
The six moving boxes were still outside.
I decided to move them beneath the covered section near the garage.
I didn't want rain damaging anything.
The suitcases were still beside them.
I placed a protective cover over the group.
Then I took a photograph.
I wanted a record of where everything was.
I sent it to Cullen.
"Your belongings remain safe. They are covered and protected."
He replied:
"Why are you making us look like strangers?"
I stared at the message.
I didn't answer.
A few minutes later, he sent another.
"Please have everything ready when we arrive."
I put my phone away.
That afternoon, I went through the documents one more time.
The property records.
The attorney's letter.
The cream-colored envelope.
Nile's handwritten note.
I placed everything inside my handbag.
Then I called Richard.
He reminded me that I did not need to hand over any keys or sign anything.
He also suggested that I contact him if anyone attempted to enter the property without permission.
I thanked him.
Friday evening, Margaret called.
She told me that some guests had begun asking whether the celebration was still happening.
I said I believed it was.
She asked whether I was nervous.
I looked at the blue front door.
"A little."
She told me she would be nearby if I needed anything.
I appreciated that.
Before going to bed, I placed my new keys beside my handbag.
I checked the calendar.
September twenty-sixth.
One more day.
I turned off the light.
And I realized that I wasn't thinking about the wedding anymore.
I was thinking about what would happen when my son stood in front of the house and discovered that I had never agreed to give it away.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: The Morning of September Twenty-Sixth Arrived, and I Prepared My Porch for the People Who Believed They Were Coming to Collect My House
My Only Son Called to Announce His Wedding, but One Casual Sentence Made Me Realize I Was No Longer Welcome in His Life
Part 15 of 20
