Chapter 10 - HIS SIGNATURE
Matthew stared at the paper.
“What is it?” I asked.
Jessica gave it to me. It was a short letter addressed to Hearthstone. Matthew had signed below a statement that the owner had agreed to discuss selling the property after Christmas.
“Did I agree?” I asked.
Matthew’s face had gone gray. “Jess, you told me it only confirmed the appointment.”
“It did.”
“The letter says something else.”
“You could have read it,” she shot back.
“Yes,” I said. “He could have.”
Matthew didn’t argue. He took the page from my hand and read it to the bottom.
“I signed this,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Jessica threw up her hands. “No sale happened. She still owns every brick.”
“That isn’t the point,” he said.
“It seems to be the only point anyone cares about.”
Matthew folded the letter and handed it back to me. For once, he did not ask me to make Jessica feel better.
Helen came over that afternoon to collect a copy. She called Daniel in front of us. He confirmed the company had taken no photographs, posted no listing, and received no authority to sell the house. He agreed to close the inquiry and send written confirmation.
That eased one fear. It did nothing for the ache in my chest.
By evening, Matthew had packed his clothes. Jessica had finally started on hers, slamming drawers upstairs.
I was putting my mother’s glass bell back on the tree when she came into the living room.
“You’ve won,” she said.
“I didn’t want a contest.”
“You get your house. Matthew gets to feel terrible. Merry Christmas.”
I steadied the bell with one hand. “You made decisions about my home while I was away.”
“We were desperate.”
“You could have told me.”
“You would’ve said no.”
“I might have said no to taking my bedroom. I might have said yes to helping you find somewhere to stay. You didn’t let me decide.”
Her expression shifted. For a moment, she looked less angry than tired.
“I can’t live like this,” she said. “Every bill is late. Every call might be somebody asking for money. Matthew keeps saying he’ll sort it out.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been living with that.”
She glanced toward the stairs. “He didn’t tell me his hours were cut for three weeks.”
“And you didn’t tell him you kept opening my account.”
She looked away.
A car door slammed outside. Matthew had come back from loading the trunk.
Jessica moved toward the stairs, then stopped. “I never meant to hurt you with George’s things.”
“You packed them anyway.”
“I thought if the place looked like ours, we might finally feel safe.”
I looked at the broken wooden star in my hand.
“This was the place where I felt safe,” I told her.
Her eyes shone, but she went upstairs without answering.
Ten minutes later, Matthew called me from the driveway.
“Mom, come see this.”
May you like
Behind his car stood a rented moving truck.
Jessica had booked it weeks before I came home.
