Thursday morning began with a knock at my front door.
I wasn't expecting anyone.
When I opened it, Margaret was standing outside.
She looked concerned.
"Can I come in for a minute?"
"Of course."
She followed me into the kitchen.
I offered her coffee.
She declined.
Then she took a folded piece of paper from her handbag.
"I think you should see this."
I unfolded it.
It was a printed photograph of an invitation.
Not the welcome-home celebration invitation.
Something different.
It appeared to be a preliminary wedding announcement.
The names Cullen and Blythe were printed at the top.
Below them was a small paragraph about the couple's future.
I read it carefully.
Then I reached the final sentence.
The couple would soon begin their married life in the beautiful coastal home generously provided by the groom's family.
I looked at Margaret.
"Where did you get this?"
"My friend received it from someone connected to Blythe's family."
I stared at the words.
Generously provided.
I had not provided anything.
I had not promised anything.
And I certainly had not agreed to be described as someone giving away a $1.94 million property.
I placed the announcement on the table.
"How long has this been circulating?"
Margaret wasn't sure.
She believed it had been prepared before the wedding.
I looked at the date printed near the bottom.
June.
Again.
The same month Miles had mentioned.
The same month the measurements had been taken.
The same month Cullen apparently believed the paperwork had been completed.
I felt a strange heaviness in my chest.
This wasn't something they had decided during the honeymoon.
They had been planning it for months.
I looked at Margaret.
"Thank you for bringing this to me."
She touched my arm.
"I don't want you to be hurt any more than you already are."
I nodded.
After she left, I called Richard.
I explained what I had found.
He asked me to bring the announcement to his office.
I drove there that afternoon.
He examined the paper.
Then he compared the date with the documents in his file.
He looked thoughtful.
"This is interesting."
"What do you think it means?"
He tapped the date.
"It suggests that the couple may have been operating on the assumption that the property would be transferred before the wedding."
"But why would they believe that?"
Richard didn't answer immediately.
He asked whether I remembered showing anyone the cream-colored envelope.
I shook my head.
"No."
"Did anyone see you working with the documents?"
I thought carefully.
Then I remembered something.
In June, Cullen had visited the beach house while I was preparing lunch.
He had asked to use the hallway table because he wanted to charge his phone.
I had left him alone for several minutes.
At the time, I hadn't thought anything of it.
He was my son.
Why would I worry about him standing near a table where I kept family papers?
I told Richard.
He listened.
"Did he have access to the drawer?"
"I suppose he could have."
Richard nodded.
"Let's not assume anything. But we should preserve what you found."
He made a copy of the announcement.
Then he placed the original inside a protective folder.
I thanked him.
On the way home, I stopped at the beach house.
I parked near the porch and sat in my car.
I looked at the blue door.
I remembered the summer Cullen had helped his father paint it.
He had been covered in blue paint.
Nile had laughed so hard that he nearly dropped the brush.
I remembered how Cullen had complained that the paint was too bright.
Now that same door had become the centerpiece of a wedding cake.
And apparently, the subject of a promise I had never made.
I finally got out.
I unlocked the house.
The living room was quiet.
I walked to the mantel and looked at Nile's photograph.
Then I went to the hallway cabinet.
I opened the drawer.
The cream-colored envelope was still inside the folder.
I checked the flap again.
The clear tape was still visible.
I took a photograph of it.
Then I closed the drawer.
That evening, I received a call from Miles.
He sounded different from the previous conversations.
More nervous.
"Eleanor, I wanted to ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"Did Cullen ever tell you about the arrangements we discussed in June?"
I sat down.
"What arrangements?"
He hesitated.
"He said the beach house would be transferred as part of the wedding."
I closed my eyes.
"No. He did not."
Miles sighed.
"I see."
I asked him what exactly Cullen had told him.
Miles explained that they had discussed the newlyweds' housing plans.
Cullen had said the property documents were being finalized.
He had also said the house would become theirs after the wedding.
Miles believed the legal work had already been handled.
I listened carefully.
Then I asked:
"Did you ever see a signed deed?"
"No."
"Did you ever speak with my attorney?"
"No."
"Did you ever ask me?"
He became quiet.
Then he answered.
"No."
I didn't raise my voice.
I didn't need to.
"Then why did you believe it?"
Miles sounded embarrassed.
"Because Cullen told me it was done."
I looked at the kitchen table.
The wedding announcement was still there.
"I understand that you trusted him. But you should understand that I never agreed to transfer the house."
He apologized.
I thanked him.
Then I asked whether he could tell Laurelai the same thing.
He said he would speak with her.
After the call, I sat quietly.
I wondered whether Miles was beginning to understand the situation.
But Laurelai was another matter.
She had been very clear about what she expected.
I didn't think she would accept the truth easily.
Later that evening, Cullen sent me a photograph.
It was a picture of the beach house.
The blue door.
The porch.
The gray roof.
Underneath, he wrote:
"Can't wait to come home."
I stared at the message.
Home.
I wanted to ask him whether he meant the house where he had grown up.
Or the house he had decided to claim.
Instead, I put the phone away.
I had no desire to argue while he was still on his honeymoon.
The following morning, I received a call from Richard.
He had finished checking the documents.
He confirmed once more that no ownership transfer had taken place.
He also reminded me that the handwritten note from Nile should remain with the original paperwork until we had decided how to present it.
I agreed.
Then I asked him something.
"Richard, could someone have created a document that looks like a deed using information from the envelope?"
He said it was possible for someone to create a document, but that did not make it legally valid.
He suggested that if any questionable paperwork appeared, I should bring it to him immediately.
I thanked him.
I was beginning to feel more prepared.
But I still had one unanswered question.
What exactly had Cullen seen?
And why had he been so certain?
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Invitation List Revealed How Far Their Plans Had Gone, and I Realized My Son Had Already Told Everyone a Different Story
My Only Son Called to Announce His Wedding, but One Casual Sentence Made Me Realize I Was No Longer Welcome in His Life
Part 10 of 20
