“Yes.”
“And are you a guest at this table?”
“I was invited,” I said.
“But they did not order me a meal or provide a chair.”
His gaze sharpened.
The waiter quietly added, “Her daughter-in-law told her she was not staying.”
Vivien glared at him.
“No one asked for your opinion.”
“I asked for an explanation,” the manager replied.
For the first time, Vivien seemed to realize that expensive clothes did not automatically place everyone in the room beneath her.
She pointed at me.
“She can pay.
She has another card.”
I took my original card from my purse and placed it on the white tablecloth.
Derek exhaled in relief.
I kept one finger over the card.
“I will make sure the restaurant staff are not punished for your choices,” I said.
“But first, you are going to tell me what this celebration was really about.”
Derek glanced at Vivien.
She grabbed her purse.
“We are leaving.”
As she pulled it from the back of her chair, a folded brochure slipped out and landed beside the chewed bone.
A photograph of a bright Victorian house filled the cover.
Across the top, in large gold printing, was an address I recognized immediately.
Mine.
The house where James and I had raised Derek.
The house I still owned.
I lifted the brochure.
A real estate company’s logo appeared beneath the photograph, along with the words Private Pre-Market Opportunity.
My hands stopped shaking.
“What is this?” I asked.
Derek closed his eyes.
Vivien reached for the brochure, but I pulled it away.
“It is nothing,” she said.
The manager stepped back, giving us space without leaving.
The nearby diners remained silent.
I opened the brochure.
Inside were photographs of my living room, kitchen, backyard, and bedroom.
They had been taken recently.
In one image, the navy dress I was wearing hung from the closet door.
Someone had entered my home while I was away.
At the bottom of the final page was a projected sale price: $1.74 million.
Under that, in blue ink, someone had written, Enough for condo deposit, school balance, cards, and fresh start.
I knew Derek’s handwriting.
“Fresh start?” I asked.
“Mom, let me explain.”
“You photographed my house.”
“We only wanted to know what it might be worth.”
“You have no authority to sell it.”
Vivien crossed her arms.
“You were going to leave it to Derek eventually.”
The casual way she said it chilled me more than the rain had.
“Eventually means after I die.”
“No one said anything about dying,” Derek replied quickly.
“But you did plan to sell my home.”
