For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her question.
I looked at the keychain in my hand.
"This one."
I gave a small laugh.
"The silver heart you sent me for my birthday."
Margaret didn't smile.
She looked at the little object for several seconds.
Then she looked at me.
"That's what you received?"
I nodded.
"Yes. It came in a small package."
She placed her fork down.
The sound was quiet.
But I heard it.
My father stopped eating.
Linda's expression became difficult to read.
Emma, who had been looking at her phone, suddenly put it down.
I glanced between them.
I didn't understand why everyone seemed uncomfortable.
Margaret looked at my father.
Then at Linda.
Then at Emma.
Her eyes returned to me.
"Lydia, I purchased an apartment for you."
I stared at her.
She continued speaking.
"It cost four hundred thousand dollars."
I didn't move.
She looked at the keychain again.
"That little item was supposed to come with the keys. It wasn't the actual present."
I heard the words.
I understood each one separately.
But together, they made no sense.
An apartment?
For me?
I looked at her.
Then I looked at my father.
His face had lost its color.
Linda reached for her wineglass.
Her hand seemed unsteady.
Emma's phone slipped from her fingers and struck her plate.
I looked back at Margaret.
"An apartment?"
She nodded.
"Yes, sweetheart."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Where?"
Margaret started to answer, but my father interrupted.
"Margaret, perhaps we should discuss this privately."
She turned toward him.
"Why privately?"
Nobody answered.
I looked at Linda.
She was staring at the tablecloth.
A moment earlier, she had been smiling.
Now her smile was gone.
I looked at Emma.
Her eyes were filling with tears.
That was when I realized something.
They knew.
Whatever Margaret was talking about, my father, Linda, and Emma already knew.
I was the only person at the table who didn't.
Margaret slowly straightened in her chair.
"Lydia, I arranged everything before leaving for Europe. The apartment was purchased for you."
I tried to speak.
My throat felt dry.
"I don't understand."
She reached toward my hand.
"You were supposed to receive the keys and the documents."
My fingers closed around the little silver heart.
I remembered opening the birthday package.
I remembered reading the note.
I remembered thinking how thoughtful it was.
Then another thought entered my mind.
If the apartment had been purchased for me, where were the keys?
I looked at my father.
He wouldn't look back.
Margaret noticed.
She turned toward him.
"Richard, where did you put the apartment keys?"
My father opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He looked at Linda.
Linda immediately sat forward.
"Margaret, please. We don't need to do this during dinner."
Margaret kept her eyes on him.
"Where are they?"
Linda tried again.
"There were some practical matters to consider."
Margaret turned toward her.
"What practical matters?"
Linda took a breath.
She spoke carefully, as if choosing every word.
"Emma needed somewhere suitable to stay while she continued her education. The apartment was available, and we thought it made sense to use it."
I looked at her.
I wasn't sure I had heard correctly.
"Use what?"
Nobody answered me.
I looked at Margaret.
She seemed to be waiting for me to understand.
Then I looked at Emma.
My half-sister was crying.
Not the kind of crying that comes from being surprised.
She looked frightened.
"Emma?"
She shook her head.
I asked again.
"What's going on?"
She covered her mouth.
Then she started speaking.
"Mom said you wouldn't find out."
Linda immediately turned toward her.
"Emma, stop."
But Emma was already crying harder.
"She said Aunt Margaret wouldn't know until later. She said you would be fine with it."
I felt something inside me go completely still.
I looked at Linda.
Then at my father.
I waited for one of them to deny it.
Neither did.
Margaret's voice was quiet.
"How long has Emma been living in the apartment?"
My father rubbed his forehead.
Linda answered.
"Two months."
Two months.
I repeated the words in my head.
For two months, I had been working my shifts.
For two months, I had been bringing Danny home to our little rental.
For two months, I had been worrying about the next rent payment and wondering when I might finally afford somewhere better.
And for those same two months, my half-sister had been living in a property Margaret had bought for me.
I looked at Emma's clothes.
Her expensive outfit.
Her carefully arranged hair.
Her phone lying beside her plate.
I wondered whether she had ever thought about where I lived.
Whether she had ever considered that Danny and I could have used that space.
Then I wondered whether she had thought about it at all.
Linda interrupted my thoughts.
"Let's be reasonable."
I turned toward her.
She looked at me as if she expected me to agree.
"Lydia has a stable job. She's always managed to take care of herself."
I didn't answer.
"Emma is still studying. She needs a proper place to live. We thought this was the sensible arrangement."
I looked at my father.
He remained silent.
I wanted him to say something.
Anything.
I wanted him to tell Linda that the apartment wasn't hers to give away.
I wanted him to remind Emma that a gift intended for her sister wasn't something she could simply accept.
Instead, he stared at his plate.
I felt something change inside me.
It wasn't anger at first.
It was disappointment.
The kind that comes after years of waiting for someone to finally choose you.
I had spent my childhood trying not to be difficult.
I had spent my adult life proving I could manage.
I had believed that if I asked for nothing, nobody could accuse me of being selfish.
And somehow, they had used that against me.
Margaret pushed her chair back.
She stood.
"Richard, I asked you a question."
My father looked up.
"Margaret, please."
"No."
Her voice was controlled.
"Where are Lydia's keys?"
Linda looked toward the hallway.
Then she reached for her purse.
Margaret held out her hand.
"The keys. Now."
Linda didn't move.
Margaret took out her phone.
I watched her unlock it.
Then she spoke.
"I have the purchase documents. I have the deed. I also have the correspondence showing what was supposed to be delivered to Lydia."
Linda's face changed.
Margaret continued.
"And I have copies of the letters you sent in Lydia's name."
I looked at her.
"What letters?"
Margaret turned toward me.
"Letters thanking me for the apartment. They arrived while I was away."
I felt cold.
She explained that the letters had been presented as if I had written them.
They thanked her for the property.
They expressed gratitude.
They suggested that I had already received everything.
I stared at her.
"I never wrote those."
"I know."
Her answer came immediately.
I looked at Linda.
She had gone pale.
Margaret placed her phone on the table.
"We can settle this now. Or I can contact the police and explain everything from here."
My father whispered her name.
He sounded desperate.
Linda glanced at him.
Then she opened her purse.
Her hands moved around inside it.
Finally, she pulled out a set of keys.
She placed them on the table.
Nobody spoke.
The metal touched the polished wood.
A small sound.
But I felt as if the entire room had heard it.
Margaret picked them up.
She examined them briefly.
Then she turned toward me.
Her expression softened.
"Lydia, would you like to see your apartment?"
I looked at the keys.
Then at her.
I couldn't make the words feel real.
My apartment.
The phrase sounded like something that belonged to another person.
I looked down at Danny.
He had stopped coloring.
His little dinosaur book was open in front of him.
He was watching the adults carefully.
He didn't understand the money or the paperwork.
But he understood that something was wrong.
I reached for his hand.
He immediately held mine.
I thought about our little rental.
The curtain.
The plastic container of books.
The narrow space where he slept.
I thought about all the times I had told him we would eventually have a bigger home.
And I thought about how close we apparently had been to having one.
I looked at Margaret.
"Yes."
My voice was quiet.
Then I looked at my father.
He still couldn't meet my eyes.
I stood, holding Danny's hand.
For the first time that evening, I wasn't trying to make anybody comfortable.
I wasn't trying to explain away Linda's behavior.
I wasn't waiting for my father to speak.
I simply wanted to see the place that had been bought for my son and me.
I squeezed Danny's hand.
"Let's go see our apartment."
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: The Front Door Opened to a Home I Had Never Seen, and My Son Finally Understood Why His Aunt Was Crying
I Had Spent My Whole Life Being Called Independent, Until One Small Thank-You Made Everyone at Christmas Dinner Stop Talking
Part 4 of 20
