Part 2 of 3

The program included a champagne toast and a ceremonial presentation of the house keys.

I stared at the invitation until the words blurred.

“Did they ask you about any of this?” June asked.

“Not a word.”

She put a hand over mine.

“What are you going to do?”

I looked toward the blue front door.

“I’m going to be there.”

I called Ruth and asked whether she’d attend as well.

Then I put Nile’s photograph on the mantel, exactly where it belonged.

PART 2 — THE KEYS THEY THOUGHT WERE THEIRS

On September twenty-sixth, I arrived at the beach house before nine.

I wore a navy dress, comfortable shoes, and the pearl earrings Nile had given me for our thirtieth anniversary. I carried the cream-colored envelope in my purse.

Ruth arrived shortly afterward with a leather folder.

“You don’t have to make a speech,” she reminded me.

“I’m not planning one.”

“And if this becomes unpleasant, we can ask everyone to leave.”

“I know.”

That was the difference between this day and so many others. I wasn’t waiting for Cullen to decide what would happen.

By noon, Laurelai’s hired helpers were arranging folding chairs on my lawn. A caterer unloaded champagne glasses. Several guests arrived in expensive clothes, looking around the property as though they were attending an open house.

I stepped onto the porch.

Laurelai approached me with a tight smile.

“Elaine. I’m glad you’ve decided to be reasonable.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything.”

She glanced toward the chairs.

“Please don’t make a scene. Everyone came to celebrate the children.”

“Then they can celebrate their marriage. But nobody is receiving my house today.”

Her expression hardened.

Before she could answer, a black car turned into the driveway.

Cullen stepped out first, followed by Blythe.

He saw the suitcases I’d brought out from storage for collection.

Then he saw me.

“Mom, open the door.”

“Hello, Cullen.”

“I’m serious. We have guests coming.”

“They’re already here.”

He glanced around the lawn, suddenly aware that people were listening.

“You know what? Fine. Let’s just get the keys and talk about this later.”

I looked directly at him.

“Who told you the house belonged to you?”

He stared at me.

“Dad wanted me to have it. You know that.”

“Your father wanted a lot of things. That doesn’t mean you get to decide them for me.”

His voice rose.

“I SAW THE DEED, MOM! IT’S DONE!”

The lawn fell quiet.

I took the envelope from my purse.

“You mean this deed?”

He stopped speaking.

I removed the document and turned to the final page.

The signature line was blank. So was the space reserved for the notary’s acknowledgment.

Across the top of the document was the word DRAFT.

Ruth stepped beside me.

“This document was prepared for Elaine’s consideration,” she explained. “It was never signed or delivered as a completed conveyance. The property remains hers.”

Miles removed his sunglasses.

“Cullen, you told me it was signed.”

“I showed you the paperwork.”

“You showed me something with a signature.”

I turned toward Miles.

“What signature?”

He took out his phone and opened an email.

Ruth asked him to preserve the original message and attachment. When he showed her the document, her expression became very still.

“Elaine, have you ever signed a deed conveying this property?”

“No.”

“And have you signed a power of attorney authorizing Cullen to do so?”

“Absolutely not.”

Cullen stepped forward.

“This is getting ridiculous. Mom, let’s go inside.”

I shook my head.

“We can talk privately about our relationship. But you told these people the house was yours, and they deserve to know it isn’t.”

Blythe looked at her husband.

“You told me your mother had signed everything.”

He avoided her eyes.

Laurelai tried to interrupt.

“Surely this isn’t the time to discuss private family documents.”

I looked at the rows of chairs.

“You arranged a public ceremony to give away my property. I’m afraid the ownership question is already public.”

A woman near the gate quietly put down her champagne glass.

Then I turned back to Cullen.

“Did you open the envelope in my bedroom?”

He rubbed his jaw.

“You leave paperwork lying around.”

“It was in a locked drawer.”

“I needed to know what was happening.”

“You could have asked me.”

He gave a short, bitter laugh.

“You would’ve found some excuse to put it off.”

I thought of the wedding photographs, the cake, and the strangers who’d been told I was too sick to attend.

“You didn’t invite me to your wedding because you thought I’d embarrass you,” I said. “But you were perfectly happy to use my house to impress your guests.”

He looked down.

For a moment, I hoped he might apologize.

Instead, he said, “You’re doing all this because your feelings got hurt.”

My throat tightened.

“My feelings were hurt, Cullen. More than you know. But changing my locks was about protecting my home, not punishing you for your wedding.”

Blythe stood near the driveway, one hand resting on her suitcase.

“I thought you knew we were moving in,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t.”

“Cullen said you were sentimental about the place, so we should move our things before you had time to worry.”

I looked at her.

“You put your bathrobe in my bedroom. You moved mine into the hallway. And somebody put my husband’s photograph facedown in a drawer.”

Blythe’s face reddened.