Chapter 3 - The House with New Locks
I did not sleep after Daniel's warning.
Every sound in the penthouse made me think of the front door on Maple Avenue.
At seven the next morning, Richard called.
"The lender received our preservation notice," he said.
"They've suspended the application pending verification."
"Does that mean the house is safe?"
"For now. But we need to document its condition."
An independent property manager named Judith Bell agreed to meet me outside the house.
She was a brisk woman in a wool coat who carried a camera and a stack of forms.
"You don't have to go inside," she said.
"I want to see what they've done," I replied.
The first thing I noticed was the front door.
Thomas had painted it dark green every spring.
Now it was glossy black, and the brass lock had been replaced.
A delivery van blocked the driveway.
Two men carried our dining-room table toward its open rear doors.
My knees threatened to give way.
"That table was my mother's," I said.
Judith approached the movers and asked who had authorized removal.
They showed her an invoice signed by Vanessa Sullivan.
The inventory listed our table as salvage from an estate clearance.
Salvage.
The word felt like an insult to everyone who had ever gathered around it.
Vanessa appeared on the porch in expensive boots and a cream coat.
She smiled when she saw me.
"Back already?"
"That furniture isn't yours to sell."
"You abandoned it."
Judith introduced herself as an agent for the trust and handed over written notice of the ownership dispute.
Vanessa barely glanced at the letter.
"Daniel," she shouted into the house.
"Your mother's hired somebody to harass us."
My son emerged carrying a box of Thomas's tools.
I remembered how Thomas taught him to fix a leaky faucet when he was nine.
Daniel wouldn't look at me.
"Mom, you need to leave before this gets ugly."
"It became ugly when you watched your wife throw me out."
His mouth tightened.
"You know that's not how it happened."
Judith's camera was recording the interaction with everyone in plain view.
Vanessa noticed and stepped close enough that I could smell her perfume.
"You've been talking to lawyers," she hissed.
"You should have stayed gone."
I wanted to shout back.
Instead, I handed the movers Judith's written instruction to pause removal of disputed items.
They called their dispatcher, returned the table, and drove away.
Vanessa's expression changed.
For the first time, she looked uncertain.
Then Daniel pulled a second envelope from his pocket.
"Mom," he said, "before you make this worse, you should know Dad signed something too."
He held up a document bearing Thomas's signature.
Across the top it read: Personal Occupancy Agreement.
May you like
And the date beside the signature was three days after Thomas had lost the ability to write.
