Nile had written that he hoped the beach house would always be a place where people could come together.
He mentioned the blue front door.
He mentioned the long porch where we used to sit after dinner.
He mentioned the summers when Cullen was young and would run down the steps with wet feet, leaving little marks on the boards.
I paused.
Cullen was looking at the paper as if he could see his father sitting beside me.
I continued.
Nile had written that a home was not a prize.
It was not something a person deserved simply because of a family name.
It was something people cared for.
It was something they respected.
He wanted Cullen to understand that responsibility came before ownership.
He wanted him to know that if he ever became responsible for the house, he should preserve it as a place where the family could gather.
Not as a possession to show off.
Not as proof that he had become important.
I reached the last paragraph.
Nile had written that he trusted me to make the right decisions about the house.
He knew I would keep it safe.
He knew I would not let anyone turn it into a reason for the family to stop speaking to one another.
I folded the note.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Cullen's eyes were wet.
“He said that to me,” he whispered.
“He wrote it for you.”
“He told me the house would stay in the family.”
“It will.”
“Then why won't you let us have it?”
“Because you haven't asked what staying in the family means.”
He looked toward the house.
The blue door stood behind me.
The same door Nile had painted himself, with a brush he kept in the garage.
I remembered how he had insisted on doing the second coat after sunset because he didn't like the way the afternoon light showed the brush marks.
He had laughed when I told him nobody would notice.
He said he would notice.
That was how he treated the house.
Not as a trophy.
As something worth caring about.
Cullen looked at the note again.
“Dad wanted me to have it someday.”
“Maybe he hoped you would be ready someday.”
“So this is about me not being ready?”
“This is about you deciding I no longer had a choice.”
Blythe stepped beside him.
“We weren't trying to take anything from you.”
I looked at her.
“You packed your belongings into my bedroom.”
Her face tightened.
“You moved my robe into the hallway closet.”
She looked down.
“You put your white robe where mine had been hanging.”
“I thought—”
“You moved Nile's photograph from the mantel and put it face down in a drawer.”
She closed her eyes.
“I didn't know what to do with it.”
“You could have asked.”
“I didn't think it would matter to you that much.”
“It mattered to me because he was my husband.”
The words came out more quietly than I expected.
Blythe's eyes filled.
“I am sorry.”
I believed she was sorry about the photograph.
I wasn't sure she was sorry about the rest.
Cullen took the note from my hand only after I offered it.
He held it carefully.
His thumb rested near the bottom where Nile's handwriting had become faint.
“Why didn't you tell me about this document?” he asked.
“I did.”
“When?”
“Before the wedding, when I asked you to come speak with Richard.”
He looked confused.
I reminded him of the message I had sent in June.
I had asked him to come to the office and discuss the future of the house.
He had replied that he was busy arranging wedding details.
Then he had said we could settle everything after the ceremony.
He had never come.
“I thought you had already signed,” he said.
“You thought that because it suited the plans you had made.”
His face reddened again.
Laurelai stepped in.
“This is becoming a family matter. The guests don't need to hear all these details.”
I looked at her.
“You made it their business when you invited them to witness a key handover.”
Miles finally spoke.
“Eleanor is right.”
Laurelai turned sharply.
“Miles.”
“No,” he said. “Let her finish.”
He walked toward the welcome table and picked up the printed program.
He looked at the heading.
WELCOME HOME, CULLEN AND BLYTHE.
Then he looked at the guests.
“We were told the house had been transferred.”
I nodded.
“Who told you that?”
“Cullen said the paperwork was complete.”
Cullen looked at him.
“I believed it was.”
Miles shook his head.
“You told me you had seen the deed.”
“I saw the document.”
“That is not the same thing.”
The sentence seemed to settle over the lawn.
Miles placed the program back on the table.
“I should have asked Eleanor directly.”
“Yes,” I said. “You should have.”
Laurelai crossed her arms.
“So what happens now? Everyone just goes home?”
I looked at the chairs.
At the flowers.
At the small table where she had expected me to place a ring of keys.
“I don't know what everyone expected to happen,” I said. “But I know what isn't happening.”
I held up the document again.
“This house is still mine.”
A guest near the driveway nodded.
Another quietly gathered her handbag.
Cullen looked at me.
“Are you saying you will never let me have it?”
“I am saying I will not give it to you because you announced it to other people.”
He shook his head.
“I am your only son.”
“I know.”
“Dad's only son.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why are you treating me like a stranger?”
I felt something inside me loosen.
Not because his question was fair.
Because it was the first time that morning he had asked me something instead of telling me what I owed him.
“I am not treating you like a stranger, Cullen. I am asking you to treat me like your mother.”
He looked away.
I held out my hand for Nile's note.
He hesitated.
Then he returned it.
I folded it along the old creases and placed it inside the envelope.
Richard's document went behind it.
I tucked the envelope into my purse.
The lawn was quiet.
I could hear the waves beyond the dunes.
For years, that sound had been the background to our family gatherings.
That morning, it sounded like something I needed to hear clearly.
I picked up my coffee.
It had gone cold.
I took one sip anyway.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: The Guests Finally Learned Why I Had Changed the Locks Before My Son Returned from Hawaii
My Only Son Called to Announce His Wedding, but One Casual Sentence Made Me Realize I Was No Longer Welcome in His Life
Part 18 of 20
