“Yeah, Mom. I’m telling you, it’s almost time. Just a matter of time. No, she hasn’t said anything yet, but she’s giving in. Yeah, when she leaves, we’re going to change everything. I already spoke to a contractor to come and see about the remodel. He figures about $15,000 to do it all right. Don’t worry, we’ll get it from the loan. The house is going to be ours anyway.”
My blood ran cold. $15,000. A loan to remodel my house—the house they thought was already theirs.
Chloe saw me standing there and hurried to hang up.
“I’ll call you later, Mom. Bye.”
She looked at me with a nervous smile.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s just—well, we already talked to Adrien and he agrees. We’re going to apply for the loan next week. The house is going to be beautiful, Eleanor. You’ll see.”
“And was anyone going to consult me?”
“Well, it’s just Adrien said you had already accepted that the house was going to be his.”
“Accepting that it might be his someday is not the same as saying it’s his now,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “And I definitely did not give permission for anyone to take out a loan in my name.”
“It won’t be in your name,” Chloe clarified quickly. “It’ll be in Adrien’s name.”
A $15,000 loan to remodel a house that isn’t his.
Chloe fell silent. For the first time, I think she saw something in my eyes that scared her.
“Eleanor, we just want to improve the house.”
“No,” I said slowly. “You want to erase me. You want me to leave. You want to take what I built. But you’re in for a surprise.”
And I went to my room before she could answer.
That night during dinner, Adrien brought it up.
“Mom, Chloe told me you were upset about the loan.”
“I wasn’t upset, Adrien. I was concerned—because you are planning to spend $15,000 on a house that is still mine without even asking me.”
“But Mom, you said the house would be mine someday.”
“Someday, Adrien. Someday. Not today. Not next week. And until that day comes, I am still the owner. I still decide what does and doesn’t get done in this house.”
Chloe jumped in.
“It’s just that we don’t know what you want anymore, Eleanor. Sometimes it seems like you want us to leave.”
And there it was—the trap, waiting for me to say yes, that I wanted them to leave so they could play the victims. But I was learning to play this game.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I said calmly. “I just want respect. Respect in my own home.”
