My Son Tried to Take My House, But He Forgot One Important Thing: It Was Never His
PART 3
Emily looked at her.
“Exactly. His family. Not you.”
Dana’s smile disappeared.
Greg dropped the papers onto the table.
“Mom,” he said, turning toward me. “What did you do?”
I looked at him calmly.
“I protected myself.”
“You sold the house?”
“I made sure nobody could take it from me.”
“You can’t do that!” Greg shouted.
The old me would have lowered my head.
The old me would have apologized.
The old me would have said, “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
But that woman had spent six months sleeping on a folding bed while her son planned how to remove her from the home she and her husband built.
So I simply picked up my tea cup.
“Why not?”
Greg opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Emily walked over and placed her hand gently on my shoulder.
“Because Grandma was the legal owner,” she said. “And because Grandpa Walter left everything to her. She had every right to make this decision.”
Dana crossed her arms.
“Wait. You knew about this?”
Emily nodded.
“Yes.”
“For six months?”
“Yes.”
Dana looked at Greg.
“You knew?”
Greg shook his head quickly.
“No. I didn’t know.”
Emily looked at him.
“That is the problem, Dad. You never knew anything about Grandma’s life because you never bothered to ask.”
That sentence hit him harder than any argument could have.
Because it was true.
For six months, Greg lived under my roof.
He ate my food.
He used my electricity.
He parked his expensive truck in the driveway Walter built.
But he never once asked me how I was sleeping.
He never asked if my knees hurt.
He never asked if I missed my husband.
He only asked about money.
Dana walked toward the folder.
“So what? You bought the house from her?”
Emily looked at me.
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Dana smiled.
“With what money?”
Emily opened the folder again.
“That is none of your business.”
Greg stepped forward.
“No. I want to know. You don’t have enough money to buy a house like this.”
Emily looked at him for a long moment.
Then she said something that made the color leave his face.
“I sold the apartment Grandpa helped me buy when I was nineteen.”
Greg froze.
“What?”
“You remember.”
He looked away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
Emily’s voice became quieter.
“When Mom left, Grandpa Walter helped me. He told me I needed a safe place to live. He helped me with the down payment. He said I deserved a home where nobody could throw me out.”
I looked down because I remembered.
Walter had always been that kind of man.
He fixed broken doors.
Broken chairs.
Broken fences.
But most importantly, he fixed broken hearts.
When Emily was sixteen and Greg stopped answering her calls after his divorce, Walter was the one who showed up at her school play.
Walter was the one who sat in the front row.
Walter was the one who told her:
“People can walk away from you, sweetheart. But that does not mean you are worth walking away from.”
Greg looked uncomfortable.
“She is my daughter. She should have come to me.”
Emily laughed sadly.
“Come to you?”
She shook her head.
“I called you twelve times after I graduated college.”
Silence.
“I invited you to my wedding.”
Silence.
“I sent you pictures when your granddaughter was born.”
Silence.
“You never answered.”
Greg looked at the floor.
Dana suddenly interrupted.
“This is ridiculous. We are not talking about old family problems. We are talking about this house.”
Emily turned to her.
“No. We are talking about what you tried to do.”
Dana frowned.
“What did we try to do?”
Emily opened another document.
“I spoke with the lawyer.”
Greg’s head lifted.
“What lawyer?”
“Grandma’s lawyer.”
Emily placed several papers on the table.
“The same lawyer who recorded the sale. The same lawyer who prepared the lifetime lease agreement.”
Dana picked up one page.
Her eyes moved quickly.
Then her expression changed.
“What is this?”
“Your eviction notice.”
The room went completely still.
