“It wasn’t over,” I said. “You just didn’t read the rest of it.”
Diane was standing by the refrigerator. She’d gone quiet while he talked. She was holding her purse in front of her with both hands.
The tape measure was sticking out of the side pocket. Yellow. Twenty-five feet.
“Diane,” I said.
She looked at me.
“You told your son your mother di.ed in a home because nobody wanted her.”
Her chin trembled.
“That’s true,” she said.
“I believe you.” I took a breath. “I’m sorry that happened to her. I’m sorry you watched it.”
She blinked. She hadn’t expected that.
“But you don’t get to fix it by buying a piece of my house in secret. You don’t get to tell me for four years that I can’t take care of a home you were secretly paying for, and then make me watch you measure it.”
“I didn’t know how else to—”
