Diane went very still.
Greg stopped talking.
I saw it then. Something in her face. Something that wasn’t anger anymore.
Fear.
“Diane,” I said quietly. “What did you do?”
She didn’t answer me. She looked at her son.
“I sold it,” she said.
The kitchen went completely silent. Even the refrigerator seemed to stop humming.
“You sold what?” Greg said.
“The condo. At Brookstone. Three weeks ago. When you texted me the last payment was coming.” Her voice had gone small. “I signed the papers the next day. The closing is the twentieth.”
“Of this month?”
“Nineteen days.”
Greg set his coffee down on the counter very carefully. Like it might break.
“Mom. I never told you to sell your condo.”
“You signed that!” She jabbed a finger at the yellow paper. “When the house is paid off, Mom will move in! It’s right there! It’s your handwriting under it!”
