“Mom was buying the food.”
“I was going to reimburse her.”
“When?” I asked.
Tiffany opened her mouth, but the doorbell rang before she could answer.
Through the glass, I saw my real-estate agent, Laura Chen, standing beside a young couple.
A locksmith waited behind them with a metal toolbox.
Laura had asked whether the buyers could stop by to confirm measurements before the final walk-through.
I had agreed, believing Kevin and Tiffany would be gone by then.
Instead, they were standing in my kitchen with their plans exposed across the counter.
I opened the door.
Laura introduced Daniel and Priya Shah, the couple purchasing the house.
Priya was visibly pregnant.
Daniel carried a small notebook filled with measurements.
They stopped smiling when they saw the tension in the room.
“I’m sorry,” Laura said.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No,” I replied.
“We were just finishing a family discussion.”
Tiffany appeared behind me.
“There’s been a misunderstanding.
The sale may not proceed.”
Laura looked at Mr.
Sloane.
“It will proceed,” he said.
Priya’s hand moved protectively over her stomach.
“We’ve already given notice on our apartment.”
“And you will have possession Friday,” I assured her.
Tiffany stepped closer.
“You can’t promise that.
Margaret may not have understood what she signed.”
I watched the buyers’ faces change from excitement to alarm.
That was Tiffany’s favorite strategy.
When she could not control a decision, she tried to contaminate it with doubt.
Mr.
Sloane opened his case again.
“Mrs.
Ellis contacted my office independently.
We met three times.
She selected the agent, reviewed multiple offers, negotiated the closing date, and completed a capacity evaluation at her own request after anticipating this exact accusation.”
He produced a letter from my physician.
Tiffany’s mouth tightened.
I had hated asking Dr.
Patel for that letter.
At first, it felt humiliating to prove I was competent simply because I was sixty-six and widowed.
Then Dr.
Patel told me something I had repeated to myself ever since.
“Planning ahead is not confusion, Margaret.
It is evidence of clarity.”
The locksmith held up the new locksets.
“Should I come back?”
“No,” I said.
“Please begin with the garage door.”
Kevin stared at me.
“You’re changing the locks while we’re here?”
“Tiffany walks in without knocking.
