Two days after my father's visit, Linda contacted me.
Her message was longer than the previous ones.
She said she wanted to meet somewhere neutral.
She said the situation had become painful for everyone.
She said she hoped we could stop allowing one misunderstanding to damage the family.
I read the message twice.
A misunderstanding.
I looked at the folder in my bedroom drawer.
The property documents were still inside.
So were the copies of the letters.
I couldn't understand how she could describe everything as a misunderstanding.
I replied that I would meet her.
Not because I had forgiven her.
Because I wanted to hear what she was prepared to say when my father wasn't sitting beside her.
We arranged to meet at a quiet café.
I arrived first.
I ordered tea.
I sat near the window and watched people passing outside.
Linda arrived ten minutes later.
She looked carefully dressed.
Her hair was arranged as usual.
She sat opposite me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she said she was glad I had agreed to come.
I nodded.
She began by saying that Christmas had been unpleasant.
She said Margaret had embarrassed everyone.
I looked at her.
"Margaret didn't take the apartment."
Linda stopped.
I continued.
"She bought it for me."
Linda folded her hands.
"Yes, but there were circumstances."
I waited.
She explained that Emma had been having difficulties.
She said the apartment was empty.
She said it seemed wasteful to leave it unused while Emma needed somewhere to stay.
I listened.
Then I asked why she hadn't called me.
She said she didn't think I would mind.
I stared at her.
"You didn't think I would mind somebody else living in my home?"
She looked down.
"That's not how we saw it."
I felt my patience slipping.
"How did you see it?"
She said Emma needed support.
She said I had always been independent.
I almost recognized the old conversation.
The same words.
The same excuse.
Only this time, I wasn't a child sitting at my father's table.
I was thirty-one.
I had a son.
And I had documents proving that the apartment had been purchased for me.
I told her that I understood Emma needed help.
But that didn't give her permission to take something that belonged to someone else.
Linda sighed.
She said she had been trying to keep everyone happy.
I asked whether she had considered how I would feel if I found out.
She didn't answer.
Then I brought up the letters.
Her expression changed.
"What letters?"
I watched her.
"The ones Aunt Margaret received while she was in Europe."
She looked at me.
I explained that Margaret had kept the envelopes and copies.
I told her the letters thanked Margaret for the apartment.
They were written as though I had already received it.
Linda picked up her cup.
Then put it down again.
She said she didn't know anything about those letters.
I didn't argue.
I simply watched her.
She continued.
She said perhaps somebody had misunderstood the arrangements.
I asked whether she had ever told Margaret that I was happy with the apartment.
She looked toward the window.
Then she said that she had only wanted Emma to have somewhere stable.
I felt tired.
I didn't know whether she was avoiding the question or refusing to answer it.
Perhaps both.
I told her that I wasn't going to discuss moving Emma back into the apartment.
I wasn't going to hand over the keys.
And I wasn't going to pretend that the Christmas dinner had been an unfortunate misunderstanding.
Linda's expression hardened.
"So that's it?"
I nodded.
"For now, yes."
She said I was allowing Margaret to turn me against my own family.
I looked directly at her.
"Nobody had to turn me against anyone."
She became quiet.
I stood up.
I paid for my tea.
Then I left.
Outside, I stopped beside my car.
My hands were cold.
I had expected the conversation to make me feel better.
It didn't.
But it made something clearer.
Linda wasn't ready to acknowledge what had happened.
She wanted the consequences to disappear without having to discuss the decisions that caused them.
I wasn't going to participate in that.
That evening, I called Margaret.
I told her about the meeting.
She listened.
Then she asked whether Linda had mentioned the letters.
I said she had denied knowing anything about them.
Margaret was quiet.
Finally, she said she wanted to keep all the original correspondence together.
I agreed.
We decided the documents should remain safely stored.
I didn't know what might happen next.
But I knew I wasn't going to lose track of the truth.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: Emma Sent Me a Message About the Apartment, and Her Words Forced Me to See How Much of This She Had Known
I Had Spent My Whole Life Being Called Independent, Until One Small Thank-You Made Everyone at Christmas Dinner Stop Talking
Part 14 of 20
