Chapter 7 - THE WORD “GIFT”
By Wednesday morning, Ellen had sent Daniel a copy of the agreement and a formal request to arrange repayment.
He called Margaret twelve minutes later.
“You hired a lawyer against me?”
“I called the lawyer who helped us write the agreement.”
“That was four years ago.”
“The signatures haven’t expired because you forgot them.”
“We never meant for you to actually enforce it.”
Margaret stood beside her new refrigerator.
“That is an extraordinary thing to admit.”
Daniel changed direction.
“You know how expensive everything is.”
“Yes.”
“The mortgage. The kids. Insurance.”
“And Hawaii.”
“That trip was Rebecca’s idea.”
“You got on the plane.”
He said nothing.
Margaret remembered the boy who once came home with a broken window story and insisted the other boys had dared him.
Arthur had listened.
Then he had asked one question.
Whose hand threw the ball?
“Mom, I can’t pull ninety-six thousand dollars out of nowhere.”
“The agreement gives us a way to discuss payments.”
“So now I’m making payments to my own mother.”
“You should have been doing that before I had to ask.”
His voice hardened.
“We gave you a place to live.”
Margaret leaned against the counter.
She had expected that sentence.
Still, it landed.
“I helped buy the place,” she said. “I paid for groceries. I watched your children. I cooked, cleaned, and moved my appointments around your lives.”
“We didn’t keep a spreadsheet.”
“No. You didn’t.”
He hung up.
For ten minutes, Margaret remained where she was.
Boundaries were easier to describe than to hold when the person pushing against them was your child.
She wanted to call him back.
She wanted to soften the conversation.
She wanted him to stop sounding like someone who disliked her.
Instead, she washed her breakfast dishes.
Then she went downstairs to a community lunch Celia had mentioned.
A woman named Ruth waved her toward an open chair.
“First week?”
“That obvious?”
“You look like you’re waiting for someone to tell you you’re allowed to eat.”
Margaret laughed before she could stop herself.
Across the table, another woman slid the breadbasket toward her.
“What did you do before retirement?”
Margaret opened her mouth.
For years, the answer had been help Daniel.
“I managed purchasing for a hospital,” she said.
Ruth grinned.
“Then you can help us untangle our book sale budget.”
Margaret’s phone buzzed beneath the table.
Denise had sent a message.
May you like
Daniel and Rebecca are at your old house asking whether you’ve seemed confused lately.
Margaret’s smile disappeared.
