Brandon called me the next morning.
I was sitting at the hotel desk, reviewing the documents Margaret had given me.
I answered.
"Hello, Dad."
"Hello."
"Did you sleep?"
"A little."
He paused.
"I've been thinking about yesterday."
I placed the papers aside.
"So have I."
"I didn't realize how much you and Mom had done."
I looked at the photograph beside the lamp.
"Your mother was happy to help."
"I know."
He sounded different.
Less certain.
Less impatient.
But I wasn't ready to assume everything had changed.
He continued.
"I spoke with Melissa last night."
I waited.
"We were both surprised."
"Understandably."
He sighed.
"I think we need to talk properly."
"We did talk yesterday."
"I mean as a family."
I looked toward the window.
"What do you want to discuss?"
"How we move forward."
I considered that.
Then I asked him something simple.
"Have you thought about why I left?"
He was quiet.
"Because you were upset about the allowance?"
I closed my eyes.
"Not only that."
He didn't respond.
I continued.
"I left because I needed to think about my life. Your mother had just died. I was suddenly alone, and the first thing you wanted to discuss was money."
"I know."
"I don't think you understood what that day meant to me."
Brandon breathed out slowly.
"You're right. I should have waited."
I appreciated the admission.
But it wasn't enough to erase what had happened.
"Yes, you should have."
He asked whether I would come home.
I looked at the suitcase.
"I haven't decided."
"Dad, we miss you."
I felt something soften inside me.
"How are the children?"
"They're fine. They keep asking about you."
"Tell them I love them."
"I will."
He paused.
Then he said:
"Melissa wants to apologize."
I didn't answer immediately.
"She can speak to me when she's ready."
"All right."
We ended the call a few minutes later.
I sat quietly.
I wanted to believe that Brandon was beginning to understand.
But I also knew that people sometimes became apologetic when they realized the arrangement they had depended on was changing.
I needed to see what happened after the shock wore off.
That afternoon, Margaret called.
She had reviewed the company's position again.
She explained the remaining steps and reminded me that any formal decision about the property's future would require proper documentation.
I agreed.
I told her I wanted to continue protecting the grandchildren's savings.
She confirmed that those arrangements remained separate.
Then I asked her to prepare the next set of documents for my review.
After the call, I walked downstairs.
I needed fresh air.
I went to a nearby park and found a bench beneath a tree.
An older couple walked past holding hands.
The woman was carrying a small shopping bag.
The man stopped to adjust her scarf.
I watched them.
It reminded me of Evelyn.
She had always been cold, even when everyone else was comfortable.
I used to keep a light jacket in the car for her.
She would complain that I treated her like a child.
Then she would put it on.
I smiled.
For a moment, the memory felt warm instead of painful.
I returned to the hotel shortly before sunset.
There was a message from Melissa.
It was short.
"Robert, I would like to apologize for how things happened. Can we talk?"
I read it several times.
Then I replied.
"Yes. We can talk."
She called a few minutes later.
"Hello, Robert."
"Hello, Melissa."
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry."
I waited.
She continued.
"I know the timing was terrible."
"It was."
"I should have handled things differently."
I looked at the desk.
There was something in her voice that sounded sincere.
I wanted to believe it.
She said that she and Brandon had been worried about their own expenses.
They had been thinking about the children's future.
They had felt that the monthly transfer was becoming difficult.
I listened.
Then I asked:
"Did either of you consider asking how I was doing before discussing the money?"
She went quiet.
"No," she finally said.
I appreciated the honesty.
"That hurt me, Melissa."
"I understand."
I wasn't sure she did.
But I didn't want to argue.
She asked whether I would consider returning to the apartment.
I told her I needed more time.
She accepted that.
Before ending the call, she said she hoped we could have dinner together soon.
I said we could discuss it later.
That evening, I unpacked the suitcase enough to make the room more comfortable.
I hung my shirts in the wardrobe.
I placed my shaving kit beside the sink.
I put Evelyn's photograph on the desk.
Her letter remained in the front pocket.
I sat on the bed and looked at the room.
It was still unfamiliar.
But I had begun to settle into it.
I didn't know how long I would stay.
I didn't know whether Brandon and Melissa would truly change.
And I didn't know what the final property arrangements would look like.
But I had learned something important.
An apology could open a door.
It could not decide what happened on the other side.
I turned off the lamp.
Tomorrow, I would speak with Margaret again.
And I would make sure that whatever happened next was handled properly.
Click here to continue reading: PART 17: I Had Finally Heard an Apology, but I Needed to Know Whether My Son Was Sorry for Hurting Me or Losing His Comfort
My Son Chose the Hour After His Mother’s Burial to Tell Me I Was No Longer Worth Supporting
Part 16 of 20
