“One incident,” David pleaded. “Mom, you’re going to destroy our whole family over one incident?”
I set down my fork.
“One incident?” I said. “David, in six months, you’ve contributed exactly zero dollars to this household. You’ve eaten my food. You’ve run up my electric bill. You’ve treated me like the hired help. Last night was just the final straw.”
Thomas cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Williams, shall we discuss the timeline?”
“What timeline?” Jessica demanded.
“The new will is signed and witnessed as of this morning,” Thomas said. “And Mrs. Williams is asking you both to leave the house by the end of the month. Since you’ve been living here as her guests and not paying rent, she’s giving you written notice today. In writing. So there’s no confusion later.”
He slid a typed letter across the table. A formal notice to vacate. Dated. Signed by me.
David picked it up with shaking hands.
“Where are we supposed to go?” he whispered.
“I’d suggest you figure that out quickly,” Thomas said.
Then I reached for the envelope I’d placed beside my coffee cup.
“There’s one way you might change my mind about all of this,” I said.
David practically lunged at that envelope. For the first time all morning, I saw hope flicker in his eyes.
I opened it slowly. Inside were three photographs I’d printed off my computer at five o’clock that morning.
“I was cleaning the basement storage room yesterday,” I said. “And I found something interesting.”
The photos showed three cardboard boxes. Inside them, in plastic sleeves, were stacks of old comic books.
David’s comic books. From when he was a boy.
When he moved back in, he’d carried those boxes down to my basement and dropped them by the furnace.
“Just a bunch of worthless old comics, Mom,” he said. “Toss them if you want. I don’t care.”
I didn’t toss them. Richard bought most of them for him. I couldn’t.
Thomas leaned forward and looked at the top photograph.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Amazing Fantasy number 15,” I said. “The first appearance of Spider-Man. 1962. Richard bought it for David at a comic shop in Portland when he was twelve. Paid three hundred dollars for it. I thought he’d lost his mind.”
David’s face went white.
“I looked it up last night,” I said. “A copy in that condition could sell for a lot more than three hundred dollars today.”
“Mom,” David said slowly. “Those are mine.”
“They are,” I said. “Thomas made sure I understood that. The comics are yours, David. Nobody can sell them but you.”
David let out a long breath.
“But I’m going to make you an offer,” I said. “And it’s the only offer you’re going to get.”
I took a sheet of paper out of the envelope. A typed contract. Thomas had drafted it at six-thirty that morning at my kitchen counter.
“You can stay in this house rent-free for exactly ninety more days,” I said. “While you find jobs and save money for your own place.”
“And in exchange?” Thomas prompted.
“In exchange, you’ll both attend family counseling with me. Once a week. At the counseling center at St. Andrew’s. You’ll contribute to household expenses from your paychecks once you’re working. And most importantly, you’ll treat me with the respect I deserve as the owner of this home.”
It was reasonable. More than reasonable, considering Jessica had spit on me less than twelve hours earlier.
“That sounds fair,” David said quickly.
“I’m not finished.”
I held up my hand.
“There’s a penalty clause. Any disrespect. Any argument that turns into screaming or worse. Any damage to my property. Any going through my things. And the agreement is over. You’re out. That same day. No discussion.”
Jessica was reading the contract over David’s shoulder.
“This is very specific,” she said.
“It has to be,” Thomas said. “Clear rules prevent misunderstandings.”
“And one more thing,” I said. “Six months of free rent, food and utilities in this house comes to roughly fourteen thousand dollars. I’m not asking you to pay it all back. But I’d like you to sell that Spider-Man comic. Yourself. Through a reputable auction house. And give me half of whatever it brings. As back rent.”
David stared at me.
“Half?”
“Half,” I said. “You keep the other half. You’ll need it for a deposit on an apartment.”
David looked at the photo of his comic book for a long time.
“Dad bought me that,” he said quietly.
“I know he did,” I said. “And your father would have been ashamed of how you’ve treated me these last six months. So I think he’d consider it a fair trade.”
The silence stretched out. I was giving them a chance to stay. But it would cost them their pride. And a piece of David’s childhood.
“We need to talk about this,” Jessica said finally. “Privately.”
“Of course,” I said. “Thomas and I will be on the back patio with our coffee. Take your time.”
Out on the patio, Thomas shook his head slowly.
“You backed them into a corner beautifully, Margaret,” he said. “They can’t afford to leave. But they can’t stay on their own terms anymore either.”
“They’ll sign,” I said. “Jessica’s too proud to admit defeat. And David’s too scared to face the real world without me.”
“And if they don’t keep the agreement?”
I looked through the kitchen window. David and Jessica were arguing in low voices at my dining table.
“Then I get my house back,” I said. “Either way, I win.”
Twenty minutes later, they came outside with the signed contract.
But I could tell from the look on Jessica’s face that she was already planning how to break it.
