Chapter 4 - The Rumor That Traveled Faster
By morning the story had grown legs.
According to Jessica, I was a lonely widow who had fallen under the influence of an unscrupulous attorney.
According to a neighbor, I had bought real estate without understanding the documents.
According to someone who had heard it from someone else, I was wandering around Charleston confused and refusing medical help.
I was none of those things.
I was sitting at my kitchen table deciding whether to plant rosemary or lavender beside the porch.
Richard phoned before breakfast.
"We've seen the messages," he said.
"Can she do this?"
"She can express concern. She cannot transform an unsupported accusation into a legal finding. We'll document what she's saying and respond where necessary."
He urged me not to argue online.
I agreed.
Then I drove with Helen to buy plants and came home to a voicemail from Lucas.
"Grandma, Mom says you're sick. Are you sick?"
I pressed a hand against my chest.
Lucas had never asked me for money.
He had asked for help with spelling words, pancakes shaped like stars, and stories about Grandpa Arthur.
I called him back on the number he'd used.
He whispered so softly I could barely hear.
"Are you coming home?"
"I have a home here, sweetheart. But I haven't stopped loving you."
"Mom says you kicked us out."
"The adults are working through a housing problem. That isn't your fault, and it isn't yours to solve."
He was silent.
Then he asked whether the blue fishing hat I had knitted for him was still at the house.
I told him it was.
We spoke for seven minutes about ordinary things.
Afterward I cried, not because I regretted leaving, but because children are too often made to carry messages adults are afraid to deliver honestly.
An hour later, Jessica sent a text.
STOP CONTACTING THE CHILDREN BEHIND OUR BACKS.
I forwarded it to Richard.
He asked me to keep copies of everything.
The following afternoon, an unfamiliar number called.
The woman introduced herself as someone from Oakridge Estates.
"Mrs. Vance, we're trying to clarify the circumstances of your January move-in."
"There won't be a move-in," I said.
She sounded relieved.
"I'm glad you called it off. There's something about the application you may want to review."
She explained that someone had listed Colin as the primary contact and described me as unable to manage complicated financial decisions.
I stared through the window at the rose bushes.
"May I have a copy of what was submitted in my name?"
"We'll need to verify what records we can release."
I thanked her and contacted Richard.
The brochure had been insulting.
May you like
The application underneath it was beginning to look like something else.
