Cullen stood in front of me for a long time.
Then he looked at the suitcases.
Four expensive cases.
Six boxes.
Everything they had packed before the wedding.
Everything they had expected to carry through my front door when they returned from Hawaii.
“Are you really leaving our things outside?” he asked.
“They have been outside for twelve days.”
“It's embarrassing.”
“I know.”
Blythe looked toward the boxes.
“Some of those things are important.”
“Nothing has been damaged.”
“I wasn't saying that.”
I nodded.
“I know where the boxes are. I kept them covered. You can collect them today.”
Cullen glanced toward the guests.
“Can we please go inside and talk?”
I looked at the blue door.
Then I looked at him.
“Not today.”
His shoulders dropped.
“Mom.”
“I have spent weeks trying to talk to you.”
He opened his mouth.
I continued before he could interrupt.
“I asked you to come to Richard's office. I asked you to read your father's note. I asked you to stop telling people the house had been transferred.”
He stared at the porch boards.
“You didn't answer me.”
“I did answer you. You didn't like the answer.”
Blythe wiped her cheek.
“Eleanor, I really did believe this was going to be our home.”
I believed that part.
She had planned furniture.
She had measured the bedroom.
She had chosen where her things would go.
She had probably told her friends that the house was hers.
But believing something did not make it true.
“You can be disappointed,” I said. “You can be angry. But you cannot decide that my home belongs to you.”
Laurelai stepped forward again.
“Surely there is some way to resolve this without making a spectacle.”
I looked at the printed programs on the table.
“You arranged the chairs.”
She glanced at them.
“You invited the guests.”
She didn't answer.
“You told people I would hand over the keys.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I was trying to make the day special.”
“For whom?”
She looked at Blythe.
Then at Cullen.
I didn't need an answer.
Miles walked toward the luggage.
“Let's at least move these somewhere safe.”
“I can move them after everyone leaves,” I said.
“I'll help,” he replied.
Cullen looked at him sharply.
Miles ignored the look.
A woman who had been standing near the porch steps approached me.
“I want to apologize,” she said.
I recognized her from the wedding photographs.
Her name was Susan.
She had commented online that she hoped I was feeling better.
“I was told you couldn't attend because you were unwell,” she said. “I didn't know you hadn't been invited.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“I should have asked you.”
“Perhaps.”
She glanced at Cullen.
Then she lowered her voice.
“I thought the house was a wedding gift.”
“So did several people.”
She looked embarrassed.
“I am sorry.”
I thanked her.
She returned to the group.
One by one, people began to understand that the gathering they had attended was not what they had been told.
Some looked uncomfortable.
Some looked annoyed that they had come.
A few avoided my eyes.
I didn't blame every guest.
They had been given a story.
But I was no longer going to help anyone pretend it was true.
Cullen came closer.
“Can I talk to you without everyone listening?”
I looked at Margaret.
She had remained near the side gate.
She gave me a small nod.
“Yes,” I said. “We can talk on the porch.”
He walked up the steps.
Blythe started to follow.
I held up my hand.
“Just Cullen for now.”
She stopped.
He sat in the chair beside mine.
For a moment, he looked much younger than forty.
His wedding suit was still neatly pressed.
His shoes were too clean for the grass.
I remembered buying him his first pair of dress shoes when he was a boy.
He had complained that they pinched his toes.
I had taken them back and exchanged them.
I had done that sort of thing for him all his life.
Sometimes I wondered whether I had made it too easy for him to believe that someone would always fix things.
“Did you really think I would hand you the keys today?” I asked.
He stared at his hands.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you said the house would stay in the family.”
“That is not an answer.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Blythe wanted somewhere permanent. Her parents kept asking where we would live. I told them we had the house.”
“You told them before you asked me.”
He nodded.
“I thought you would agree.”
“You didn't want my agreement. You wanted my announcement.”
He looked at me.
I continued.
“You wanted me to stand in front of everyone and confirm what you had already told them.”
“I didn't think it would turn into this.”
“Neither did I.”
He looked toward the yard.
“Why did you change the locks?”
“Because you had already moved your things into my bedroom without permission.”
“We thought you were going to move.”
“You thought I would move.”
He looked down again.
I told him about the morning I found the white robe hanging in the bedroom.
I told him about finding my robe in the hallway closet.
I told him about Nile's photograph.
He listened without interrupting.
“I didn't know about the photograph,” he said.
“You were there when it disappeared.”
“I didn't think Blythe had moved it.”
“Did you ask?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“That is what this has been about, Cullen. You stopped asking.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“I made a mess.”
“Yes.”
“I should have talked to you.”
“Yes.”
“I should have read the papers.”
“Yes.”
He gave a short, unhappy laugh.
“You don't make it easy to argue with you.”
“I am not trying to win an argument.”
I looked at the door.
“I am trying to keep my home.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he asked, “What happens now?”
“You take your things.”
“And after that?”
“After that, you decide whether you want a relationship with me that doesn't depend on getting this house.”
He looked hurt.
“I don't want to lose you.”
“Then don't treat me as something you can inherit before I'm gone.”
His face changed.
He looked toward the lawn, where Blythe stood beside her mother.
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Then think about it now.”
He stood.
I didn't hug him.
He didn't ask me to.
He walked down the steps and went to speak with Blythe.
I remained on the porch.
Margaret came through the side gate and stood beside me.
“You all right?” she asked.
I looked at my cold coffee.
“No,” I said. “But I am standing.”
She touched my shoulder.
That was enough.
Click here to continue reading: PART 20: I Kept the Blue Door, the House, and the Right to Decide What Family Would Mean from Then On
My Only Son Called to Announce His Wedding, but One Casual Sentence Made Me Realize I Was No Longer Welcome in His Life
Part 19 of 20
