He said he’d never wanted me gone. He said Oakridge was just an idea, and that Lucas needed the room. I looked at him and asked why they’d picked a move-in date if it was only an idea. He didn’t answer. Jessica started to say something, then stopped.
I had expected him to get angry. I had planned for anger. I hadn’t planned for the look on his face when he realized his mother had been the landlord all along. For a second, he looked as if he’d never seen me before.
Then he said, “You could’ve told me.” I wanted to say he could’ve asked me what I wanted before picking a place and a date. I wanted to say he could’ve stood up for me when Jessica called me trouble. I said none of that. I said, “I know.”
My taxi was due in twenty minutes. Jessica asked if I was leaving right now. I said yes. She asked if they could have more time. I told her Richard had explained the notice and they could talk to him if they had questions. I was not going to bargain at the kitchen table.
Colin asked if I’d planned this the whole time. I said I’d planned to move out. I didn’t say I’d planned the timing partly so he would have to read it there, in the house where I’d cooked and cleaned. That was the part of myself I didn’t want him to see.
The taxi driver carried my suitcase out. Colin stood in the doorway with the notice in his hand. Jessica was behind him, holding the pamphlet for Oakridge. I looked at it once, then looked away. My own little house was waiting. So was the part where I’d have to live with how I left.
Colin and Jessica found a rental before the deadline. They moved out on December twenty-ninth. Richard met them for the final walk-through, and the house was left in good shape. I returned their deposit in full. That was the right thing to do, even though no one was asking me to prove it.
I didn’t give them the house. I didn’t give them the lottery money. I did keep the college funds in place for Lucas and his sister, with rules that their parents couldn’t take the money out. I told myself it was for the kids, not a way to stay part of their lives. Some days I still wonder if I was being honest.
At the cottage, Helen helped me unpack. I put Arthur’s cracked photo frame on the kitchen shelf instead of buying a new one. The first morning, I made coffee and carried it to the porch. I could hear the traffic from the main road, faint and steady. I was alone, but nobody had assigned me a chore.
Colin called a few days later. He said he was sorry he hadn’t asked what I wanted. I said I was sorry I hadn’t told him about the house sooner. We didn’t fix four years of hurt in one phone call. He asked if I wanted to see the kids. I said yes.
We started with a visit the next weekend. Lucas brought the cracked frame up in conversation. He said he remembered the picture from the bedroom. I told him I still had it. He asked if he could come see the porch. I said he could.
I don’t know if Colin and I will ever talk about the way I handled the notice. I know I wanted him to feel the shock I’d felt when he told me January first. I told myself it was fair. I still think I had a right to leave. Those are two different things, and I keep trying to make them one.
The letter had the notice on top and my note beneath it. Under the company name, the owner line said Margaret Vance.
