The following morning, I returned to the beach house.
I wanted to look at everything carefully.
Not because I expected to find something dramatic.
I simply needed to know what had been changed.
I parked in the driveway.
The new locks worked perfectly.
I unlocked the front door and stepped inside.
The hallway was quiet.
The four suitcases were gone, of course.
They were still outside, covered with a protective sheet I had placed over them after the first night.
The six moving boxes remained beside them.
I had considered moving everything into storage.
But I decided against it.
Those belongings belonged to Cullen and Blythe.
I wasn't going to damage them.
I walked into the living room.
The sofa cushions were still different.
The decorative vase was still on the table.
I had not bothered to remove anything.
I wanted to see the house as it had been left.
I looked at the mantel.
Nile's photograph stood in its usual place.
I touched the frame.
Then I walked toward the kitchen.
There were several new items in the cabinets.
Expensive plates.
Matching glasses.
A set of silver-colored serving utensils.
I opened another cupboard.
More unfamiliar things.
It was almost as though Blythe had been planning to entertain guests there.
I looked at the dining table.
There was a small card beside a bowl.
It had a handwritten shopping list.
New curtains.
Bedroom lamps.
Guest towels.
Outdoor furniture.
I picked it up.
At the bottom, Blythe had written a note.
"Ask Mom about the party setup."
I read it twice.
The party.
I placed the card back where I had found it.
Then I went upstairs.
The bedroom still looked different.
The white bedspread had been folded at the foot of the bed.
The closet door was open.
There were empty hangers inside.
I wondered whether Blythe had already planned where her clothes would go.
I walked into the guest bedroom.
There was a new set of bedding.
A small lamp.
A decorative pillow.
Nothing that belonged to me.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
For a moment, I imagined Cullen and Blythe living there.
I imagined their friends visiting.
I imagined family dinners.
Then I remembered that I had never agreed to move out of my own bedroom.
I stood up.
I went downstairs.
Near the back entrance was a small cabinet where Nile used to keep tools.
I opened it.
A few old screwdrivers were still inside.
There was also a tape measure.
I picked it up.
It was the same one Cullen had used when he visited earlier in the year.
I remembered him measuring the living room.
He had said they wanted to know whether a large dining table would fit.
I had laughed.
I thought he was planning a future visit.
Now I understood that he might have been measuring a future home.
My home.
I put the tape measure back.
Then I checked the back porch.
A new outdoor rug had been placed near the door.
There were two large planters.
One contained a small palm.
The other was empty.
Blythe had apparently been planning the decoration.
I walked to the railing.
The paint was beginning to peel near the corner.
Nile had repaired that section years earlier.
I remembered how proud he had been when the porch finally looked finished.
He had sat in the same chair I was standing beside.
He used to watch the sun disappear behind the water.
I sat down.
The ocean was calm.
A few people were walking along the beach.
Some children were carrying plastic buckets.
I watched them for several minutes.
Then I heard a car door close.
I turned.
Margaret was walking up the driveway.
She waved.
"Good morning."
"Good morning. What brings you here?"
She held up a small paper bag.
"I brought you some tomatoes."
I smiled.
"Thank you. You didn't have to."
"I know."
She placed the bag on the porch table.
Then she looked toward the moving boxes.
"Are those still here?"
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"Have you heard anything else from Cullen?"
"Some things."
I told her about Miles's call.
I told her about the document.
I also mentioned that Richard had confirmed the property had not been transferred.
Margaret listened carefully.
When I finished, she looked troubled.
"Eleanor, I don't want to interfere, but I heard something at the grocery store."
I looked at her.
"What?"
"Someone was talking about the welcome-home party."
My stomach tightened.
"What did they say?"
She explained that a woman she knew had been invited.
The woman believed the beach house was being given to Cullen and Blythe as a wedding present.
Margaret said the woman had even asked whether I would be moving into a smaller place.
I stared at her.
"Moving?"
"That's what she said."
I looked out toward the water.
I had never discussed moving.
I had never looked for another home.
I had never considered leaving the beach house.
Margaret sat beside me.
"I think they've been telling people a story."
I nodded slowly.
It seemed that way.
"Do you know who sent the invitations?"
"Only that Laurelai and Miles were listed as the hosts."
I looked toward the front door.
The idea of thirty-four people arriving at my property was becoming harder to ignore.
But I wasn't going to spend the next two weeks hiding from something I hadn't caused.
I had already decided to let the gathering happen.
Now I wanted to understand exactly what they expected.
That afternoon, I called Miles.
He answered quickly.
"Eleanor. How are you?"
"I'm well. I wanted to ask you something about the celebration."
He hesitated.
"Of course."
"Who arranged it?"
"Laurelai handled most of the invitations."
"And what exactly have guests been told?"
There was a pause.
Then he answered carefully.
"They understand that Cullen and Blythe are moving into the beach house."
"Do they understand that I still own it?"
He didn't respond.
I waited.
Finally, he said:
"I assumed that was part of the arrangement."
"What arrangement?"
"The one Cullen mentioned."
I closed my eyes.
"Miles, I have never given him the house."
He sounded uncomfortable.
"I see."
"I want to make that clear."
"Yes. I understand."
I could hear someone speaking in the background.
It was probably Laurelai.
Miles lowered his voice.
"Perhaps we should talk about this when you return from the beach."
I looked at the floor.
"I am at the beach."
He became quiet.
Then he said he had to go.
The call ended.
I remained seated for a moment.
It was becoming clear that Miles had not checked the legal details.
He had simply accepted what Cullen told him.
Perhaps he believed he was helping his daughter.
Perhaps he didn't want to question the groom.
But the result was that he had invited thirty-four people to a celebration built around something that wasn't true.
I looked at the invitation again.
The gold lettering was beautiful.
The paper was expensive.
Someone had spent time and money preparing it.
Yet nobody had spent five minutes asking the owner for permission.
That evening, I took the invitation and placed it inside the folder with my documents.
I wanted to keep it.
Not because I needed to prove anything to strangers.
Because I wanted to remember how easily people could become convinced of something simply because they wanted it to be true.
Before leaving the beach house, I checked every lock.
I turned off the lights.
I placed Nile's photograph back in the center of the mantel.
Then I locked the front door.
As I walked toward my car, I looked back at the blue entrance.
I remembered Nile standing there with a paintbrush.
He had told me that a home was built slowly.
One board.
One nail.
One day at a time.
I had believed him.
I still did.
And I wasn't going to let anyone pretend they had built that house simply because they wanted to live in it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Laurelai Called Again With a Demand, but This Time I Asked Her One Question She Was Not Prepared to Answer
My Only Son Called to Announce His Wedding, but One Casual Sentence Made Me Realize I Was No Longer Welcome in His Life
Part 6 of 20
