Chapter 3: What Pete Had in His Pocket
Pete pulled out a single folded sheet of paper.
He didn't hand it to me.
He held it at his side, looking at the floor, like he hadn't fully decided yet which direction he was going to fall.
"Pete." My voice came out quieter than I intended.
"What is that?"
He looked at Nancy.
She was watching him the way you watch a dog that might bite.
"Give it to her," Krista said.
"Don't," Nancy said.
The word landed hard in the hallway.
Clara stirred in the bassinet behind me.
Nobody moved.
Marcus took one small step sideways.
Not toward Pete.
Just repositioning, the way people do when a room is about to change.
Pete held out the paper.
I unfolded it.
It was a printed email chain.
The top address was Pete's work email — the job he no longer had.
The second address belonged to a woman named Diane Hollis.
The subject line read: *Clover Ridge — confirm search parameters.*
"Who is Diane Hollis?" I asked.
Krista exhaled.
"She's a real estate agent.
Mom hired her eight months ago.
Before you even started looking."
I read the first email.
Then the second.
Then I stopped.
"She gave her my budget," I said.
"My exact number.
Down to the dollar."
Nobody corrected me.
I looked up at Nancy.
"How did you know what I had saved?"
She crossed her arms.
"I am your mother.
I have always looked out for this family."
"That is not an answer."
"I was trying to help you find something suitable.
Something that could work for everyone.
Is that a crime?"
Marcus cleared his throat gently.
I held up one hand.
"You hired an agent," I said.
"You gave her my savings number.
You had her track the listings I was viewing.
And when I bought this house — without telling you — you decided you were moving in anyway."
"You shut me out," Nancy said.
Her voice shifted.
Softer.
The kind of soft that had always made me second-guess myself.
"You bought a home without even asking if we needed help.
Did you ever think about what Krista's family is going through?
Did you even consider—"
"Don't." The word came out of Krista.
Nancy stopped.
"Don't make this about me," Krista said.
"Don't stand in her house and make this about my kids."
The room went very quiet.
Nancy's jaw tightened.
"Everything I have done has been for this family."
"You monitored my finances," I said.
"You had someone watch what I was buying before I knew I was being watched.
And then you called me eight days postpartum and told me to leave." I set the paper on the small table beside the door.
"That is not a mother looking out for her family.
That is someone who decided my home belonged to her before I had finished moving in."
Nancy's eyes went to Marcus.
Then back to me.
"You can't prove intent," she said.
Marcus opened his folder.
"Actually," he said, "there are eleven more emails."
Nancy's hand found the doorframe.
May you like
Her knuckles went white around the wood.
And from the bassinet, Clara made a small, sleepy sound — like punctuation.
