Part 2
Chapter 2 — The House Starts Closing In
“I’ll start looking tomorrow.”
Ashley stopped moving.
For one second, she looked almost startled.
Then her whole face softened.
“Really?”
I nodded.
David leaned back in his chair.
Air left him slowly, like he had been holding it for minutes.
“That’s good, Mom.”
Good.
The word sat between us.
Ashley stood and carried her mug to the sink.
“I can send you some listings tonight.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I already bookmarked a few.”
I looked at her.
“Already?”
She paused.
“Just in case.”
David rubbed both hands over his face.
“We’re trying to make this easier.”
“For who?”
He looked up.
Ashley turned from the sink.
I almost wished I had not asked.
David spoke first.
“For everyone.”
I lowered my eyes.
“All right.”
Ashley returned to the table and unlocked her phone.
“There’s one near Main Street. Studio setup. Utilities included.”
“How much?”
She named a number.
It was more than I expected.
“That’s almost half my monthly income.”
“They have cheaper rooms.”
“Rooms in someone else’s house.”
Ashley gave a small shrug.
“You wouldn’t need much.”
I kept my hands in my lap.
She scrolled again.
“This one allows month-to-month.”
David watched the screen with her.
Neither asked whether I wanted to see it.
I looked toward the living room.
Tom’s recliner was still beside the window.
The clock he repaired every winter ticked above the fireplace.
Thirty-seven years reduced to a rental search on someone else’s phone.
“When do you expect me gone?”
Ashley glanced at David.
“Sooner is probably better.”
He said nothing.
“How soon?”
“A few weeks.”
I nodded.
Ashley smiled again.
Not warmly.
With relief.
Then she turned the phone toward me.
“Actually, there’s an opening Saturday.”
I looked at the photograph.
A narrow bedroom.
One small window.
A twin bed pushed against the wall.
David finally spoke.
“You should at least see it.”
I looked at my son.
He could not hold my eyes.
“Saturday,” I said.
Ashley tapped the screen.
“Perfect.”
“You packed my sewing fabric.”
Ashley was standing beside three cardboard boxes in the upstairs hallway.
She did not look guilty.
“I organized it.”
“You put it in boxes.”
“We needed space.”
“For what?”
She pointed toward the sewing room.
A folding desk had appeared beneath Tom’s shelves.
David’s monitor sat on top of it.
I stopped in the doorway.
“When did this happen?”
“This morning.”
“You moved my things while I was out?”
Ashley crossed her arms.
“You said you were looking for somewhere else.”
“I said I would start looking.”
“Exactly.”
I stepped into the room.
My sewing machine was gone.
“Where is it?”
“Closet.”
“Which closet?”
“Basement.”
I looked at David’s monitor.
His keyboard.
A new office chair.
My fabric had been packed so tightly that one box bowed at the sides.
“You could have asked.”
Ashley sighed.
“We can’t ask permission for every tiny thing.”
I turned toward her.
“In my room?”
“This was becoming David’s office anyway.”
“Becoming?”
She blinked.
Then smiled.
“You know what I mean.”
I did not answer.
David came upstairs carrying a printer.
He saw me standing there and slowed.
“Mom.”
“You knew about this?”
He shifted the printer against his hip.
“Ashley thought we should get started.”
“Get started doing what?”
He looked at the boxes.
Not me.
“Making room.”
I picked up one.
Pain shot through my wrist.
David immediately set the printer down.
“Leave it. I’ll move it.”
“Where?”
“Wherever you want.”
Ashley laughed once.
Not cruelly.
Almost impatiently.
“Margaret, this is temporary.”
I stared at her.
“My things being boxed?”
“No. All of this.”
She gestured between us.
David looked at her.
For the first time, something sharp passed across his face.
“Ashley.”
“What?”
“Enough.”
She went still.
So did I.
It was the first time he had pushed back.
He picked up my box carefully.
“Tell me where you want it.”
I pointed toward my bedroom.
“Inside.”
He carried it down the hall.
For several seconds, I watched him.
Something inside me loosened.
Then he returned for the second box.
“I can drive you Saturday,” he said quietly.
“To the rental.”
His eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
The small hope disappeared before I could stop it.
“The contractor will only be here an hour.”
I stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Ashley was already opening the front door.
A man in work boots stepped inside carrying a tablet and laser measure.
He smiled at me.
“Morning.”
I looked at Ashley.
“What contractor?”
“The one I mentioned.”
“You said you had spoken to someone.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t say he was coming here.”
Ashley stepped aside so he could enter.
“Because I knew you’d make it difficult.”
The contractor’s smile vanished.
He looked from her to me.
“Should I come back?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” Ashley said at the same time.
Silence.
David appeared from the hallway.
He stopped when he saw the man.
Ashley turned toward him.
“Tell her.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“Mom, maybe just let him take measurements.”
“For what?”
The contractor cleared his throat.
“I was told kitchen, dining wall, upstairs office, and nursery conversion.”
My face went hot.
He looked uncomfortable immediately.
Ashley did not.
“It’s preliminary.”
“You planned a nursery.”
“We discussed that.”
“You planned construction.”
“No one signed anything.”
I looked at the contractor.
“Did she tell you she owned this house?”
Ashley’s face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
The contractor answered carefully.
“She said it was a family property.”
I turned toward her.
“That is not what I asked.”
David stepped closer.
“Mom, please.”
The contractor lowered his tablet.
“I can leave.”
Ashley’s jaw tightened.
“We already paid the consultation fee.”
I looked at David.
“You paid him?”
He looked away.
Ashley answered.
“We did.”
“With what money?”
Her eyes hardened.
“That is none of your business.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I gripped the banister.
She was living under my roof.
I was paying the electric bill she had forgotten.
And somehow their money was private.
The contractor shifted toward the door.
David looked at him.
“Give us a minute.”
Then, unexpectedly, he turned to Ashley.
“You should have told her.”
Ashley stared at him.
“You agreed.”
“I agreed to talk about it.”
“You were sitting right there.”
He lowered his voice.
“I know.”
The contractor waited.
I waited too.
David finally looked at me.
His expression had softened.
But he still did not ask the man to leave.
He only said, “Can we just get through today?”
“I canceled Saturday.”
I looked up from the folded newspaper.
David stood in the living room doorway with his keys in one hand.
“The rental viewing?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“They gave the room to someone else.”
Ashley came in behind him.
“There’s another place on Monday.”
I folded the paper.
“I have a doctor’s appointment Monday.”
“You can reschedule.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
She blinked.
I had not raised my voice.
Still, the word surprised her.
David stepped forward.
“Mom, she means the viewing.”
“I know what she means.”
Ashley crossed her arms.
“Then you understand why timing matters.”
“Your timing.”
“Our situation.”
I looked toward David.
He was silent again.
Ashley reached into her purse.
She placed a printed page on the coffee table.
“Here.”
“What is it?”
“A list.”
I picked it up.
Rooms.
Studios.
Senior apartments.
Weekly rentals.
Eight addresses.
Three had handwritten stars beside them.
“I did the research for you.”
I read the prices.
Most were too high.
Two were in neighborhoods I barely knew.
One was forty minutes away.
“I can’t afford half of these.”
“You have Social Security.”
“That pays for more than rent.”
Ashley sat across from me.
“Then maybe sell some things.”
My eyes lifted.
“What things?”
She looked around the room.
Furniture.
China cabinet.
Tom’s old record collection.
My sewing table.
She did not need to point.
David finally spoke.
“Ashley.”
“What? She can’t take everything.”
Something in my chest tightened.
I set the paper down.
“I haven’t agreed to leave permanently.”
Ashley leaned back.
“You said you were looking.”
“I said I would start looking.”
“Margaret, we cannot live in limbo because you keep changing the meaning of your own words.”
I felt smaller sitting there.
That was the worst part.
Not angry.
Smaller.
David sat beside me.
His voice dropped.
“Maybe just look at the list.”
I did.
Because he asked.
I read every address twice.
Ashley watched silently.
Then her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen and immediately turned it facedown.
“Who was that?” David asked.
“Nobody.”
His eyes stayed on the phone.
She slid it into her purse.
I did not ask again.
I picked up the list instead.
At the bottom, Ashley had written one sentence in blue ink.
TARGET MOVE-OUT: TWO WEEKS.
My fingers tightened around the page.
David saw it.
He closed his eyes.
Ashley did not move.
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