Chapter 2: What the Photo Showed
Harper's smile held steady as I rolled my suitcase toward the entrance.
She tilted her head the way people do when they want to look gracious in front of witnesses.
"We really do appreciate this, Barbara," she said warmly.
"Don't we, Caleb?"
Caleb nodded without looking at me.
My own son.
Standing three feet away and staring at the pavement like it owed him something.
Catherine stepped forward and lowered her sunglasses just enough to survey the building entrance.
"It's quaint," she said to Richard, the way someone describes a thing they've already decided to replace.
Richard looked up at the balconies and pulled out his phone.
He started taking photos.
Of my building.
Without asking.
"Good bones," he muttered.
"We could open this up considerably."
I stood very still.
"Mom." Caleb finally said my name.
His voice was low.
"It's just a few days."
I looked at him for a long moment.
"I know," I said.
Calm.
Quiet.
Final.
Harper was already directing Catherine toward the lobby, one hand on her mother's back, already playing hostess in my home.
She paused at the door and glanced back at me over her shoulder.
"We'll take good care of it," she said, and smiled.
It was the smile that did it.
Not cruel.
Comfortable.
The smile of someone who believes they have already won.
I picked up my suitcase handle and walked toward the taxi waiting at the curb.
I didn't look back.
But just before I reached the car, my phone buzzed.
A message from Patrick.
It wasn't words.
May you like
It was a photo.
And when I saw what it was, I stopped walking entirely.
