The black car arrived just before the gathering grew any louder.
I recognized it as it turned into the driveway.
It moved slowly past the parked vehicles before stopping near the front of the house.
For a moment, nobody approached it.
Then the passenger door opened.
Cullen stepped out.
He looked rested from his trip, and his clothes were neat.
He had the appearance of someone returning to a place he expected to find waiting for him.
Then he saw the luggage.
His expression changed.
He looked at the suitcases first.
Then the boxes.
Then the front door.
Finally, he looked at me.
"Mom, what is all this?"
I stayed where I was.
"Your things."
He walked toward the porch.
"I told you we were coming here."
"I remember."
"Then why are they outside?"
I could see several guests watching us.
Laurelai moved quickly from the group.
She approached Cullen as if she intended to settle the matter before it became uncomfortable.
"Let's not do this in front of everyone," she said.
But she had invited everyone.
She had arranged the chairs.
She had placed the entrance at the center of the gathering.
There was no private conversation left to have.
Cullen turned back toward me.
"Open the door."
His voice was low, but the anger in it was unmistakable.
I looked at him.
"No."
He blinked.
For a second, he seemed unable to understand the word.
Then he stepped closer.
"Mom, don't start this again."
I felt a familiar urge to soften my answer.
I could have told him to calm down.
I could have offered to talk inside.
I could have tried to spare him the embarrassment of being refused in front of his new in-laws.
But I had spent too many days trying to make this easy for everyone except myself.
"You don't have permission to move in," I said.
Laurelai stepped between us.
"They've made plans. They've given up their apartment."
"I didn't ask them to do that."
Her face reddened.
"Everyone is here to welcome them home."
I looked past her at the guests.
Some were staring openly.
Others pretended to examine their phones.
A woman near the chairs held a glass in one hand and watched without speaking.
I understood that they had arrived expecting something different.
They had expected a smiling mother.
A set of keys.
A few words of congratulations.
They had expected the house to become Cullen and Blythe's home because that was what they had been told.
I turned back to my son.
"Who told you this property belonged to you already?"
His jaw tightened.
"You know perfectly well it was always going to be mine."
The certainty in his voice frightened me more than the anger.
He wasn't asking for a favor.
He was claiming something.
I tried to keep my own voice steady.
"Eventually is not the same as now."
He shook his head.
"You can't do this to us."
I thought of the wedding photographs.
The tiny replica of the house.
The comment about my health.
The cream-colored envelope with its strip of tape.
I thought of Miles telling me that Cullen had claimed the paperwork was complete in June.
I had been trying to understand how all these things fitted together.
Now Cullen was standing in front of me, insisting that the property was already his.
I asked him again who had told him that.
He raised his voice.
"This house was always supposed to be mine! You know that!"
The conversation stopped around us.
A few people turned fully toward the porch.
Laurelai looked at the guests, then back at me.
I could tell she wanted me to end the argument quickly.
She wanted me to produce the keys and allow the gathering to continue as planned.
Instead, I watched Cullen's face.
I had raised him.
I remembered the boy who used to sit at the kitchen table and ask me to check his homework.
I remembered the young man who called me when he needed help.
I remembered how proud I had been when he began building a life of his own.
I had never expected him to become someone who could stand outside my house and speak to me as if I were withholding something he had already earned.
"Did you actually see a signed document?" I asked.
His eyes shifted briefly toward the front door.
"I saw the deed."
The words came out loudly enough for the nearest guests to hear.
He pointed toward the house.
"It was in your front hall. Everything was done."
Nobody spoke.
I looked at the door.
I remembered the envelope.
The tape.
The papers inside.
I remembered the questions I still couldn't answer about who had opened it.
Cullen seemed to believe the document he had seen settled everything.
But he had not explained what it was.
He had not explained whose signature it carried.
And he had not explained why Miles believed the paperwork had been completed months earlier.
I could have argued with him.
I could have told him he was mistaken.
But the guests had already heard enough to understand that there was a dispute.
I needed them to see what I had been trying to explain.
I reached into my purse.
My fingers found the long cream-colored envelope.
I pulled it out slowly.
Laurelai stopped speaking.
Cullen looked at the envelope.
I held it where everyone could see it.
"Is this the document you mean?"
His face changed, but he didn't answer immediately.
I opened the flap and removed the papers.
The last page was folded slightly at the corner.
I straightened it with my thumb.
Then I turned toward Cullen.
I was still hurt.
I was still frightened of what the gathering might become.
But I no longer felt the need to apologize for standing where I belonged.
The guests waited.
Laurelai stood motionless beside the porch.
Cullen stared at the papers in my hand.
And I prepared to show them what had actually been placed inside that envelope.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: The Paper in My Hand Was Not the Promise My Son Had Been Telling Everyone About
The Sunday Morning Call That Made Me Question Everything I Thought I Knew About My Only Son
Part 8 of 24
