The next morning, Daniel called before breakfast.
He had received preliminary information from the contractor.
I listened carefully.
Apparently, Megan had requested estimates for several changes.
The kitchen.
The deck.
The downstairs bedroom.
And the living room.
I remembered the brochures on my dining table.
"Did she sign anything?" I asked.
"Some preliminary paperwork appears to have been completed."
"Under whose name?"
"Robert's."
I closed my eyes.
"Did he claim to be the owner?"
"We're still reviewing the exact wording."
I felt tired.
"Daniel, I want to know everything."
He agreed.
Later that morning, Laura called.
She explained that the contractor had been asked to provide copies of the estimates, deposit receipts, and any authorization documents.
The contractor had also agreed to pause the proposed work.
I was relieved.
I did not want Henry's house damaged.
Then Laura told me something else.
Megan had requested a major change to the downstairs room.
She wanted it converted into a private guest suite.
I remembered the conversation I had overheard months earlier.
Her mother had laughed about staying longer.
Now it seemed those plans had moved beyond casual discussion.
I asked Laura whether there was anything unusual about the requested work.
She said the estimates were still being reviewed.
I thanked her.
Around noon, Patricia called.
She had noticed another delivery truck near the property.
But this time, the workers had not unloaded anything.
They had spoken briefly with Robert and then left.
"Something is happening over there," Patricia said.
I thanked her for keeping an eye on things.
I did not want to involve her more than necessary.
That afternoon, Robert called.
His voice sounded different.
Less angry.
More worried.
"Mom, we need to settle this."
I looked at the papers on the table.
"Settle what?"
"The house."
I waited.
He continued.
"Megan and I have already spent money."
I answered quietly.
"Then you need to explain why."
He sighed.
"She wanted to make the property better."
"For whom?"
"For all of us."
I thought about the way Megan had looked at me.
I remembered her standing between me and the front door.
"Robert, when did you start thinking of that house as yours?"
He became quiet.
Then he said, "Dad always told me it would stay in the family."
I nodded, even though he could not see me.
"It has stayed in the family."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"Because staying in the family doesn't mean you can take it from me while I'm still alive."
He did not respond.
I continued.
"Your father and I built that place together. I am still here, Robert."
He lowered his voice.
"I know."
"Do you?"
He sighed.
"Mom, I didn't mean for things to happen like this."
I believed that he might be telling the truth.
But intentions did not erase what he had done.
I asked him whether he had read the trust documents.
He admitted that he had not.
I told him he should.
Then I ended the call.
Later, Laura sent me an update.
The contractor's preliminary records showed that Megan had been discussing a substantial renovation.
There were several proposed changes.
Some were cosmetic.
Others would have altered the layout.
I stared at the list.
One line caught my attention.
Removal of an interior wall.
I immediately remembered the questions Megan had asked about opening the kitchen toward the ocean.
I had never agreed to that.
Neither had Henry.
I forwarded the information to Daniel.
He told me the legal review would continue.
That evening, I opened the old photograph album.
I found a picture of Henry standing beside the unfinished deck.
Robert was a little boy in the photograph.
He was holding a small hammer.
Henry had one arm around him.
Both were smiling.
I touched the picture.
I remembered that afternoon.
Robert had dropped the hammer into the sand.
Henry had laughed and told him that every good builder needed to learn how to pick up his tools.
I wondered what Henry would think now.
Not about the money.
Not about the renovations.
About the way our son had treated his mother.
I closed the album.
Then I called Daniel.
"I want to arrange a proper meeting with Robert."
He asked whether I was sure.
"Yes."
I wanted him to hear everything from me.
Not through Megan.
Not through letters.
Not through a bank notice.
I wanted to look my son in the eyes and give him one opportunity to tell me the truth.
Daniel agreed to arrange it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: I Agreed to Meet My Son Face-to-Face, but I Refused to Enter the House as Someone Asking for Permission
My Son Looked at My Wheelchair and Decided I Was a Burden, but He Had No Idea What His Father Had Left Behind
Part 10 of 20
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