When I could breathe again, I wiped my face on my sleeve.
“I saw the savings account,” I said. “This morning. The three payments to NE Studio. I thought…”
He winced. “I figured you might look eventually. I just thought I’d have till Saturday.”
“Four thousand eight hundred dollars, Mark.”
“It’s six thousand five hundred total. The last payment’s due when she finishes.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I used part of my bonus. I know we said that money was for the roof.”
“The roof can wait.”
He laughed. It came out wet.
“I didn’t know how to reach you, Kate,” he said quietly. “After your mom died. You went so quiet. You’d come home from work and do the dishes and put Leo to bed and then just sit in the dark. You wouldn’t talk about her. Every time I said her name, you changed the subject. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I went quiet even with myself.”
I looked up at the wall. At her eyes.
“I have to sign the papers for her house tomorrow,” I said. “At ten. At the title company. I kept thinking that after tomorrow, there’d be nowhere left where she was. Nothing that was still hers.”
Mark squeezed my hand.
“Now there’s here,” he said.
I leaned my head against his shoulder. He smelled like hardware store and coffee.
“I was ready to leave you,” I said. “In my head. Down there on that step. I was practicing what I’d say. I was thinking about lawyers.”
“I know,” he said. “I’d have thought the same thing, if I saw what you saw.”
“No. You wouldn’t have.”
“Maybe not.” He kissed my temple. “But I’d have wanted to.”
That made me laugh. A real laugh, the first one in a long time.
“What was the errand?” I asked. “Wednesday morning?”
He looked away, embarrassed.
“I drove to your mom’s house on Alder Street. Before the closing. I asked the realtor to let me in. I wanted one of the bricks from the back porch. The loose one by the steps, where she used to hide the spare key.”
He pointed to the windowsill.
There, between two jars of paint, was a single old red brick. Chipped at one corner. Moss still clinging to the side.
“Nora’s going to paint it into the garden part of the wall,” he said. “Then I thought we could put the real one out in our yard. By the swing set.”
I couldn’t say anything at all.
Specialty: Legal & Financial Drama
Michael Carter covers stories where money, power, and personal history collide. His writing often explores courtroom battles, business conflicts, and the subtle strategies people use when pushed into a corner. He focuses on grounded, realistic storytelling with attention to detail and believable motivations.