BABY ROSE — GRANDMA’S HOUSE.
I stepped away from the window.
Mark whispered, “Oh my God.”
I locked the bedroom door.
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then three times.
And finally Lorraine’s voice came through the house.
“Jennifer, open the door.”
“You’re making this much harder than it needs to be.”
Then she said something that made every hair on my arms rise.
“Because by Friday, the house won’t be yours anymore.”
PART 4
I stood completely still.
For several seconds, I couldn’t even hear my own breathing.
She had slapped my four-year-old daughter.
She had tried to obtain information about my pregnancy.
She had ordered furniture for my unborn child.
She had hired a contractor to alter my kitchen.
And now she was standing outside my house at midnight telling me I wouldn’t own it by Friday.
Yet somehow, in her mind, I was the one making a scene.
Mark stepped toward the door.
I grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“Jen, I need to talk to her.”
“You’ve talked to her for thirteen years.”
“But—”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Tonight, you listen.”
Another knock.
This time harder.
“Mark!” Lorraine called.
“Open the door.”
Mark looked at me.
I shook my head.
Then I reached for my phone.
I had already called Ray.
He was on his way.
I didn’t tell Lorraine that.
Instead, I opened the security camera app.
The front camera showed Lorraine standing on the porch in a cream coat.
Beside her stood the contractor.
And beside the contractor stood another man I had never seen before.
He was holding a black leather folder.
I zoomed in.
A briefcase.
Not something you brought to deliver nursery furniture.
Something you brought when you expected to sign papers.
I took a screenshot.
Then another.
Mark looked over my shoulder.
“Who’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
The doorbell rang again.
Lorraine called out.
“Jennifer, I know you’re in there.”
I didn’t answer.
“Your lights are on.”
Still nothing.
Then she said:
“Mark, your wife is making a terrible mistake.”
Mark looked at me.
I whispered, “Don’t answer.”
He nodded.
Five minutes later, headlights appeared at the end of the street.
A police cruiser turned the corner.
Lorraine saw it.
Her posture changed.
She immediately stepped away from the door.
The contractor looked nervous.
The man with the briefcase closed it.
Ray’s cruiser stopped in front of my house.
He got out.
He wasn’t in uniform.
But he was carrying his badge.
He walked toward the porch.
