By Friday afternoon, the neighborhood was beginning to hear more about the celebration.
I wasn't surprised.
People talked.
Especially when an expensive property and a family disagreement were involved.
I went to the grocery store.
While I was waiting near the checkout, a woman I knew approached me.
Her name was Susan.
She lived a few streets away from the beach house.
She smiled awkwardly.
"Eleanor, I hope you're doing well."
"I'm fine, thank you."
She hesitated.
"Are you excited about the welcome-home party?"
I looked at her.
"What party?"
Her expression changed.
"Oh. I thought you knew."
I kept my voice calm.
"I know there is a gathering planned at my property."
She nodded.
"Yes. Laurelai has been talking about it."
I placed my groceries on the counter.
Susan lowered her voice.
"Everyone thinks you're giving the house to Cullen and Blythe."
I stared at her.
"Everyone?"
"That's what we've been told."
I felt tired.
Not surprised.
Just tired.
Susan seemed embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"You haven't."
She looked at me carefully.
"Are you really moving?"
I shook my head.
"No."
She nodded.
Then she wished me a good afternoon.
I finished shopping and drove home.
As I unpacked the groceries, I kept thinking about that conversation.
Moving.
Another person believed I was leaving.
Another person believed Cullen was receiving the beach house.
It seemed that the story had been repeated so often that people had stopped questioning it.
I called Margaret.
I told her what Susan had said.
Margaret sighed.
"I think Laurelai has been telling people the same thing."
I looked at the invitation.
"Apparently."
Then Margaret told me something else.
One of her friends had received a message asking whether she would bring a small gift for the new homeowners.
A gift.
For Cullen and Blythe.
At my house.
I almost laughed.
I wondered whether anyone had considered bringing something for me.
The woman who actually owned the property.
The woman who had spent six summers rebuilding it.
The woman whose husband's photograph had been hidden in a drawer.
I didn't say any of that.
I simply thanked Margaret for telling me.
That evening, I received an unexpected call from a former neighbor.
He had known Nile.
He asked whether I was planning to sell the beach house.
I told him I wasn't.
He sounded surprised.
He said he had heard that Cullen and Blythe were moving in and that I was preparing to downsize.
I felt a knot in my stomach.
I explained that none of it was true.
He apologized.
Then he told me he hoped everything would work out.
After the call, I went to the beach house.
I needed to be somewhere quiet.
I unlocked the front door.
I walked into the living room.
The house smelled of fresh air and the cleaning products I had used earlier.
I sat on the sofa.
Then I looked at the mantel.
Nile's photograph was still there.
I picked it up.
I remembered how he had always insisted that family photographs belonged in the most visible part of a home.
He used to say that people should remember who had loved them before they became successful.
I had laughed at him.
Now I understood why he had said it.
I put the photograph back.
Then I took out my phone.
There was a new message from Blythe.
"Mom, I know things have been difficult. But please don't make September 26th uncomfortable for everyone."
I read it slowly.
I typed a reply.
"I have no intention of making anyone uncomfortable. I simply won't be giving away my property."
She didn't respond.
A few minutes later, Laurelai called.
I answered.
"Eleanor, we need to be realistic."
I leaned back.
"About what?"
"The celebration. There are thirty-four guests coming."
"I know."
"Some are traveling a long distance."
"I understand."
"Then you must realize how embarrassing it would be if there were no keys to hand over."
I looked toward the kitchen.
I could almost picture the table she wanted.
The white cloth.
The decorative box.
The keys.
"Why would there be keys to hand over?"
Laurelai sighed.
"Because that's what the celebration is about."
I answered calmly.
"That is what you decided it was about."
She became quiet.
Then she said:
"You cannot change everything at the last minute."
I almost laughed.
"I didn't make the plans."
"You're being difficult."
"No, Laurelai. I'm being clear."
She took a breath.
"Please don't do this to Blythe."
I looked at Nile's photograph.
"Please stop asking me to give your daughter something that isn't yours to promise."
She ended the call.
I put my phone down.
For a long time, I sat in silence.
I wasn't frightened of the guests.
I wasn't frightened of Laurelai.
But I was sad.
Sad that a family gathering had become a public confrontation.
Sad that my son had allowed his new wife and her parents to believe something that wasn't true.
And sad that he seemed more concerned about the opinions of strangers than about his own mother.
The following morning, I received a message from Miles.
He said he had spoken with Laurelai.
He also said he was beginning to understand that there might have been a misunderstanding about the paperwork.
I appreciated the message.
But I still wanted answers.
I asked him whether Cullen had ever shown him the cream-colored envelope.
Miles replied that he had not.
He said Cullen had mentioned seeing a document at the beach house.
I stared at the message.
The beach house.
The hallway.
The drawer.
The measurements.
The June visit.
I suddenly remembered that Cullen had once asked me whether I kept all the property documents in the hallway cabinet.
At the time, I had answered casually.
I had told him that important papers were kept in the drawer.
I hadn't thought anything of it.
Now I wished I had been more careful.
I sent a message to Richard.
I explained what Miles had said.
He replied that we should continue preserving the evidence and avoid making assumptions.
I agreed.
That afternoon, I placed the invitation, the wedding announcement, and the measurements list inside one folder.
I kept the original legal documents separate.
Then I placed everything in a locked drawer at my home.
I didn't want anything else disappearing.
I stood in the kitchen for a moment.
The sunlight was fading.
I thought about the people coming on September twenty-sixth.
Some would probably arrive believing they were attending a happy family celebration.
Some might know there was tension.
Others might have no idea that the woman who owned the property had never agreed to give it away.
I couldn't control what they believed before arriving.
But I could control what I said when they got there.
And I intended to tell the truth.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: I Read Nile’s Handwritten Note Again and Finally Understood Why I Had Been Waiting So Long to Give Cullen That Envelope
My Only Son Called to Announce His Wedding, but One Casual Sentence Made Me Realize I Was No Longer Welcome in His Life
Part 11 of 20
