Chapter 2: Nineteen Forty Two
The car was cold. I hadn't turned the heat on and my hands were still holding the phone the way I'd held it at the table, both thumbs braced under it like it might slip.
The screen had gone dim. I tapped it awake again.
19:42. The time was bright at the top. Below it, the preview was still there.
Margret Slon - Estate discussed
My own name spelled wrong. Margret without the a. It was the contact I'd saved months ago when I'd finally called the attorney in town. Her paralegal had set the appointment and I'd typed it in too fast in the parking lot outside her office. I'd left it that way on purpose. It made it feel less real to see it misspelled.
Underneath, the last line from her office showed in gray. We discussed your deed and trust options. No action needed until you decide. Call if pressured.
I stared at that last word. Pressured.
Daniel had brought it up right after Dora set the cake down. Not before. After. He'd waited until the child was watching, until the candles were lit, until my hands were in my lap. He'd said we should talk while everyone was together. He wanted me to sign the paper he'd printed and left on the counter. He'd called it helping the family.
It wasn't about helping. I realized that sitting in that dark car with my breath fogging the windshield. He'd timed it to the cake so I'd feel small saying no.
A movement at the house pulled my eyes up.
Daniel was in the doorway. The light from inside threw his shape onto the driveway. He had his phone to his ear. Mine buzzed in my hands a second later. The same name lit up. Daniel.
I didn't answer at first. I watched him through the windshield, the glass cold against my line of sight. He was still in his navy button-down. His shoulders were tight. He lifted his free hand like what are you doing.
The buzzing stopped. Then started again.
I answered.
"Mom?" His voice was thin through the car speaker.
I didn't say anything. My throat was dry.
"You're seriously leaving over a cake?" he said.
I watched his mouth move in the doorway light and heard the words a half-second later on the phone. He sounded annoyed, like I was making a scene.
"No, I'm leaving because it wasn't about the cake," I said. My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to.
He exhaled. I could see his chest rise from thirty feet away. "Mom, don't be ridiculous."
That was the line. The same one he'd used when I asked him to stop. He said it flat, as if he were correcting a child.
I looked down at my phone. The estate preview was still there behind his call screen. 19:42. No action needed until you decide.
"Good night, Daniel," I said.
I hung up before he could answer. My thumb was shaking.
He stayed in the doorway for a long moment, phone still at his ear. Then he lowered it. He didn't come down the steps. He turned and went back inside and the door closed. The warm light stayed on in the front windows, but the doorway went dark.
The car was silent except for my breathing. I pressed the button to silence the phone completely. No vibrate. I put it face down in the cupholder.
I put my key in the ignition. My old car coughed once, then caught. The heater clicked and blew cold air at my knees. I put it in reverse and backed out slow, my headlights sweeping across the empty curb and the two-story gable where Dora and the child were still inside.
May you like
I didn't look at the window again when I pulled away. I drove to the end of his street where the houses thinned and the road turned into the county road that led back toward town. It was dark, just my headlights and the reflectors along the shoulder. The dashboard clock said 19:46.
I kept driving toward my apartment with the phone dark beside me and the house getting smaller in the rearview mirror.
