I thought leaving the dining room would make me feel better.
It didn't.
My legs were shaking by the time I reached the front hallway.
Danny held my hand.
His dinosaur coloring book was tucked beneath his other arm.
I hadn't even remembered to tell him to bring his crayons.
That was how confused I felt.
Behind us, I could hear Linda speaking.
Her voice had changed.
She wasn't using the soft, reasonable tone she'd used at dinner.
She sounded frightened.
"Margaret, you cannot just walk out like this."
Aunt Margaret didn't turn around.
She reached for her coat.
Then she looked at me.
"Lydia, do you have your car keys?"
I nodded.
They were already in my hand.
The little silver heart swung against my fingers.
Margaret noticed it.
For a second, her expression tightened.
Then she opened the front door.
Cold December air entered the hallway.
I took Danny outside.
My father followed us onto the porch.
"Lydia, sweetheart, please."
I stopped.
Not because I wanted to hear another explanation.
Because I couldn't remember the last time he'd called me sweetheart without wanting something from me.
He looked older than he had during dinner.
His shoulders were bent.
His face was pale.
I waited.
He glanced toward the open doorway.
Linda was standing behind him.
Of course she was.
"I know this looks terrible," he said.
I stared at him.
"Does it only look terrible?"
He lowered his eyes.
I felt Danny's small fingers tighten around mine.
My father took another step.
"We were going to explain."
"When?"
He didn't answer.
"After Emma finished school? After Aunt Margaret forgot about it? After Danny grew up?"
"Lydia."
"No, Dad. Tell me when."
He looked toward Margaret.
She was standing beside the car.
She didn't interrupt.
For once, she was letting my father answer for himself.
He rubbed his forehead.
"I didn't know how to handle it."
I wanted to believe him.
That was an old habit.
I had spent years believing the best version of every excuse he gave me.
But I couldn't do it anymore.
"You could have given me the keys."
He looked at my hand.
The silver heart caught the porch light.
I saw him notice it.
His expression changed.
"I know."
Two words.
That was all he had.
I nodded.
Then I turned away.
Danny and I walked toward Margaret's car.
She opened the back door for him.
He climbed inside and placed his coloring book on the seat.
I helped him fasten his seat belt.
Usually, he talked constantly when we got into a car.
He asked where we were going.
Whether we could stop for a snack.
What time we would get home.
That night, he was quiet.
I brushed his hair away from his forehead.
"Are you okay, honey?"
He nodded.
Then he asked something I wasn't prepared for.
"Mom, did Aunt Emma take our house?"
I felt my throat close.
I hadn't realized how much he'd understood.
Children hear more than adults think.
Especially children who have spent years watching their parents worry.
I sat beside him for a moment.
"She was staying in a place Aunt Margaret wanted us to have."
"Is it our place?"
I looked toward the front of the car.
Margaret was standing outside, giving us a moment.
"Yes," I said carefully. "That's what Aunt Margaret told us."
Danny thought about that.
"Does it have a bedroom?"
I couldn't answer immediately.
I looked at the dinosaur book on his lap.
Then at his little shoes.
I thought about the curtain around his bed.
"I don't know yet."
He nodded.
Then he looked out the window.
"I hope it has a door."
I turned my face away.
That was the moment I cried.
Not loudly.
Not the way Emma had cried at dinner.
A few tears fell before I could stop them.
I wiped them away with my sleeve.
Danny didn't notice.
Or maybe he pretended not to.
Margaret got into the driver's seat.
She looked at us in the rearview mirror.
"Ready?"
I nodded.
She started the car.
We pulled away from my father's house.
I watched the Christmas lights disappear behind us.
For years, I had measured my behavior at family gatherings.
I was careful not to upset Linda.
Careful not to embarrass my father.
Careful not to make Emma feel judged.
That night, I left without saying goodbye.
And I felt guilty.
Looking back, that guilt makes me sad.
Even after everything they'd done, part of me was worried I'd been rude.
Margaret drove in silence for several minutes.
Then she spoke.
"I owe you an apology."
I looked at her.
"For what?"
"I should have given you the apartment myself."
"You didn't know."
"I trusted Richard."
She gripped the steering wheel.
"I thought he would do one simple thing."
I leaned back against the seat.
"You bought me an apartment?"
She glanced at me.
"Yes."
"For four hundred thousand dollars?"
"That's what I paid."
I looked out the window.
Cars passed us.
Families were probably driving home from Christmas dinners.
People were opening presents.
Children were falling asleep in back seats.
And I was sitting in my aunt's car trying to understand how a gift that large could have been kept from me.
"Why?" I asked.
Margaret didn't answer immediately.
She waited until we stopped at a red light.
Then she looked at me.
"Because I wanted you and Danny to have a home."
I swallowed.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know."
"That's so much money."
"I know that too."
I shook my head.
"I don't understand."
Margaret looked toward the road.
"I spent six months wondering whether I'd get to see another Christmas."
I didn't speak.
She continued.
"During those months, you came to my house after working all day. You brought Danny. You sat beside me when I felt sick. You made sure I took my medicine."
I remembered those evenings.
The drive.
The hospital chairs.
The smell of the cancer center.
The times I was so tired I forgot whether I'd eaten.
"Anyone would have done that," I said.
Margaret shook her head.
"No, Lydia. They wouldn't."
I knew she was right.
I just hated hearing it.
She took a breath.
"When I finished treatment, I started thinking about what mattered to me."
I watched her hands.
They were steady now.
"I have enough money to live comfortably. I don't have children of my own. And I know how hard you've been working."
"Aunt Margaret—"
"Let me finish."
I fell silent.
"I knew you wouldn't accept a large check. You'd worry about it. You'd try to give some back. You'd tell me to spend it on myself."
I gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
She knew me.
Of course she knew me.
"So I decided to buy you something you couldn't talk me out of."
I looked down at my keys.
"The apartment."
"Yes."
She smiled sadly.
"I wanted Danny to have his own room. I wanted you to come home from work without worrying about whether the rent would go up."
I pressed my lips together.
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
I sat quietly.
Then I asked the question that had been bothering me.
"Why did you give Dad the keys?"
Margaret's smile disappeared.
"Because I was leaving for Europe, and the purchase was being finalized around the time I traveled."
She paused.
"I arranged for Richard to receive the keys and the information you needed."
"And you thought he'd give everything to me?"
"Yes."
I looked out at the dark road.
"He didn't."
"No."
"Did you know Emma wanted the apartment?"
Margaret shook her head.
"I didn't even know Emma had seen it."
I closed my eyes.
That made it worse.
This hadn't been some family arrangement that had gone wrong.
Margaret had given my father a clear responsibility.
He had changed the outcome.
And then somebody had written letters pretending to be me.
I opened my eyes.
"Those letters."
Margaret nodded.
"I received two."
I turned toward her.
"Two?"
"Yes."
"What did they say?"
She hesitated.
"The first thanked me for the apartment and said you were overwhelmed by the gift."
I stared at her.
"The second said you were settling in and Danny was excited."
My chest tightened.
Danny was sitting behind me.
Quiet.
Listening.
Someone had used his name.
Someone had written about my son being happy in a home he'd never entered.
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
Margaret's voice softened.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"You didn't write them."
"No."
"You believed them."
"Of course I did. I thought they came from you."
I looked down at my purse.
The birthday note was still at home.
I remembered how carefully Margaret had written it.
She had expected me to understand after receiving the apartment.
Instead, I'd opened a package containing a keychain.
Nothing else.
And I'd been grateful.
Margaret turned into a quiet residential area.
The houses became newer.
The roads were lined with trees.
Christmas lights shone through apartment windows.
I recognized the neighborhood.
It wasn't far from the hospital.
I had driven past it many times.
Sometimes I had looked at the buildings and wondered what it would feel like to live somewhere like that.
I had never seriously considered buying there.
The prices were far beyond what I could afford.
Margaret slowed beside a modern apartment building.
There were balconies.
Large windows.
A clean entrance with warm lights.
She pulled into the parking area.
Then she turned off the engine.
"We're here."
I stared at the building.
"Here?"
She nodded.
I looked up.
The building had several floors.
I could see Christmas decorations in some windows.
One balcony had a small tree covered in white lights.
It looked peaceful.
Expensive.
Like a place where people didn't worry about rent.
Danny leaned forward.
"Is this it?"
Margaret smiled at him.
"Yes, sweetheart."
He looked through the window.
"Wow."
One word.
That was all.
But I felt it in my chest.
We got out of the car.
I helped Danny with his coat.
Margaret took the apartment keys from her purse.
I watched her hold them.
They had been sitting in Linda's purse less than an hour earlier.
Now they were finally in the hands of the person who had bought the property.
We walked toward the entrance.
I noticed how clean everything was.
The glass doors.
The polished floor.
The quiet lobby.
There was a small Christmas tree near the reception area.
Danny stopped to look at it.
I waited beside him.
Margaret spoke to the person at the front desk.
I couldn't hear everything she said.
I was too distracted.
My mind kept returning to the same thought.
Emma had been coming home to this building for two months.
She had walked through these doors.
Used the elevator.
Opened the apartment.
Maybe she'd invited people over.
Maybe she'd shown them around.
All while Danny and I were still living behind a curtain and a stack of secondhand furniture.
Margaret returned.
"Come on."
We entered the elevator.
Danny stood between us.
He watched the numbers change.
I held his hand.
The elevator stopped on an upper floor.
We stepped into a quiet hallway.
The carpet was soft beneath my shoes.
I could hear music playing faintly behind one of the doors.
Margaret walked ahead.
Then she stopped.
She looked at the number beside an apartment door.
I looked at it too.
I had never seen it before.
Yet I was supposed to have known that this was mine for two months.
Margaret placed the key into the lock.
It turned.
She opened the door.
And I stepped inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell.
Expensive perfume.
Not mine.
Not Margaret's.
Emma's.
I recognized it immediately.
She wore the same fragrance every time she came to family dinner.
I stood in the doorway.
There were shoes beside the entrance.
A handbag on a table.
A jacket hanging near the door.
None of them belonged to me.
Danny peered around my leg.
"Mom?"
I couldn't move.
Margaret looked inside.
Her expression hardened.
The apartment was beautiful.
And somebody else had already made herself at home.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: The Apartment Was Everything I Had Wanted for My Son, but Every Room Showed How Comfortable My Sister Had Become Living There
I Thanked My Aunt for a Small Birthday Gift at Christmas Dinner, and the Silence Around the Table Told Me Something Was Wrong
Part 5 of 10
