CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
Rebecca had heard only the last part.
Not the trust.
Not the lawyer’s name.
Only Eleanor’s quiet sentence.
I don’t know anymore.
By dinner, Rebecca’s face had become polished and dangerous.
She served Thomas salmon, poured herself wine, and placed a plain bowl of soup in front of Eleanor without looking at her.
Thomas noticed.
He always noticed.
He almost said something.
Then Rebecca set his credit card statement beside his plate.
The message was clear.
Do not embarrass me while I am holding the leash.
Thomas had lost his job eight months earlier when his company downsized. Rebecca had not let him forget it for a single day. She paid the bills now. She reminded him of that during breakfast, in front of guests, in bed, in whispers, in jokes that were never jokes.
Eleanor had watched her son shrink one inch at a time.
That night, Rebecca waited until the dishes were done.
Then she walked into Eleanor’s room and began stripping the bed.
Eleanor stood in the doorway, confused.
“What are you doing?”
Rebecca folded the blanket with terrifying calm.
“Making space.”
“For what?”
“For people who contribute.”
Thomas appeared behind them, pale.
“Rebecca,” he said. “Stop.”
Rebecca turned slowly.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Now you found your voice.”
Thomas swallowed.
Eleanor saw him break before he even answered.
“Mom,” he whispered, “maybe just for tonight—”
Eleanor stared at him.
May you like
That was the moment something old and soft inside her finally went quiet.
Rebecca smiled, picked up the pillow, and said, “Come on, Eleanor. Your new room has a view of the fence.”
