For the first time, I heard uncertainty in his voice.
Over the following days, Michael continued reviewing the records. Meanwhile, I focused on settling into my new home. I arranged furniture, decorated the living room, and planted winter flowers beside the porch.
I also contacted the financial institutions connected to the payments I’d been making for Andrew and Rebecca. Some voluntary arrangements ended immediately, while others required processing. I followed the appropriate procedures and kept copies of every confirmation.
Andrew called repeatedly, asking whether I could continue helping with their mortgage.
“Mom, we have two children.”
“I know, Andrew. And I love them. But you and Rebecca are responsible for managing your household.”
It was difficult to refuse. For years, my first instinct had been to solve every problem he brought to me.
But I was beginning to understand that my assistance had allowed him to postpone decisions he needed to make himself.
A week after Christmas, Patricia visited my new house. As we arranged photographs, she mentioned something surprising.
“Rebecca told one of our relatives that she and Andrew planned to move into your old house after you left.”
I stared at her.
“Move into it?”
“She said they expected to take over the property before spring.”
Suddenly, Andrew’s announcement at Christmas dinner made more sense. He had demanded rent in a house he didn’t own, perhaps believing that embarrassing me would convince me to leave.
But his plan hadn’t accounted for my new home.
The next morning, Michael called with important news. Charles had admitted that the document had been assembled from an old estate-planning draft and later notes. He claimed it reflected Thomas’s intentions but couldn’t provide evidence that Thomas had approved the final version.
Michael confirmed that the document did not override my recorded ownership.
Then he added something unexpected.
“Eleanor, Andrew recently contacted a real estate agent about your property.”
My stomach tightened.
“Without telling me?”
“Yes. He asked about a possible sale, but no listing agreement was signed.”
I looked toward the window, where snow covered my garden.
For years, I believed Andrew simply needed financial help. Now I realized he had begun imagining a future in which my property would solve his problems.
I asked Michael to prepare a letter confirming that I alone would make decisions regarding the house and that nobody had permission to market or negotiate its sale on my behalf.
One question remained unanswered.
