Several days later, I heard from Megan.
She called in the afternoon.
I was in the kitchen preparing lunch.
Her name appeared on my phone.
I considered letting it ring.
Then I answered.
"Hello, Megan."
She sounded tired.
"Vivien, do you have a minute?"
I told her I was listening.
She said Ray and Donna were trying to work out their living arrangements.
They were upset about what had happened.
She said they felt they had been placed in a terrible position.
I understood.
They had packed their belongings.
They had arranged a truck.
They had told people they were moving into a new home.
Then everything had stopped in front of my driveway.
But I hadn't arranged any of it.
Megan said Derek had explained that he believed the property would eventually be his.
I asked whether he had shown her the completed trust documents before she brought me the photocopy.
She said no.
I asked whether she had known the deed was never recorded.
She said she hadn't.
I remained quiet.
Then she said something I hadn't expected.
"My parents really thought they were going to have a home there."
I looked at the kitchen window.
"I understand that."
She asked whether I could reconsider.
I asked what she meant.
She said perhaps I could allow them to stay for a while.
I answered the same way I had answered before.
"No, Megan."
She sighed.
"You're making this very hard."
I put down the knife I was holding.
I wanted to answer without anger.
"Megan, I didn't ask your parents to move into my house."
She said Derek had arranged everything.
I told her that was exactly the problem.
She went quiet.
I continued.
"Your parents made plans based on something they were told. I understand they're disappointed. But I cannot be expected to give up my home because someone else made a promise they had no authority to make."
She didn't answer.
Then she asked whether I was planning to sell the villa.
I said no.
She asked whether I intended to keep it empty.
I told her I lived there.
There was another silence.
Finally, she said she hoped we could find a way to move forward.
I told her I hoped so too.
We ended the call politely.
I returned to preparing lunch.
But my appetite was gone.
I sat at the table and thought about how the conversation had changed.
Megan wasn't talking about the quitclaim deed anymore.
She wasn't insisting that her parents had a legal right to the property.
She was asking me to make an exception.
I understood why.
Her parents needed a place to live.
But that did not change the ownership.
That afternoon, I received a message from Tommy.
He asked whether I had noticed anything else around the property after the move-in attempt.
I told him everything appeared fine.
He said he was glad.
Then he reminded me that he still had copies of the renovation paperwork.
I thanked him.
I was grateful for that.
The binders were more than a collection of receipts now.
They were a record of my life.
I had spent three summers rebuilding that cottage.
I had spent twenty years paying taxes and insurance.
I had maintained it.
I had made it a home.
No one had a right to erase those years simply because they wanted somewhere comfortable to live.
Later that evening, I received another call.
This time, it was Derek.
He sounded less angry than before.
He asked whether I had spoken to Megan.
I said I had.
He asked what she wanted.
I told him she had asked whether her parents could stay temporarily.
He didn't deny it.
Then he said Ray and Donna were upset with him.
I asked why.
He said they felt he had put them in a difficult situation.
I looked toward the porch.
"Did you?"
He didn't answer.
He began talking about how quickly everything had happened.
He said he had wanted to help.
I asked whether he had considered what would happen to me.
He said I had my apartment.
I reminded him that having an apartment in Mobile did not mean I had given up the villa.
He said he knew that now.
I sat quietly.
Those words should have brought me comfort.
Instead, they made me sad.
He knew it now.
But he hadn't cared enough to find out before the truck arrived.
I asked whether he understood that the loan application was a separate matter.
He said my attorney was making it sound worse than it was.
I told him I wasn't going to argue about that over the telephone.
He became quiet.
Then he said he would call again.
I told him he could.
After hanging up, I remained at the table.
I wanted to believe that Derek could understand what he had done.
But I knew understanding and accepting responsibility were not the same thing.
For now, I would keep the property secure.
I would let the attorney handle the documents.
And I would stop trying to solve problems that my son had created by pretending they were mine.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: I Walked Through Every Room That Night and Realized the House Was Still Standing, Even Though My Family No Longer Felt the Same
The Afternoon My Son Told Me I Had Lost the Right to Enter the House I Had Spent Twenty Years Building
Part 15 of 24
