When I pulled up to the cottage, the wind off the ocean was sharp and salty. The waves were slamming against the shore in a steady, heavy rhythm.
Sheriff Larkin was standing beside his cruiser in the gravel driveway, hat pulled low against the wind. Miles was holding a manila envelope. I stood a few steps behind them. Not hiding. Just letting the process do the talking for once instead of my voice.
My father opened the front door.
The second he saw the deputy’s uniform, the color drained out of his face in a way I’d never seen before.
My mother appeared right behind him, holding a dish towel like she’d been cooking. But the house didn’t smell like anything.
“What is this?” she barked, before anybody could say a word.
Miles stepped forward. “Mrs. Carrian. Mr. Carrian. This is formal written notice to vacate the property. You have thirty days to remove your personal belongings. From today forward, all communication about this property must go through counsel.”
My mother’s face twisted. “This is insane. This is our home!”
I didn’t raise my voice.
“No, Mom,” I said. “It’s mine.”
She laughed. A high, brittle, frantic laugh. “You’ve never even lived here. You never wanted this place.”
“I paid for every repair,” I said. “Every storm fix. Every inspection. The roof over your head right now. The air conditioner. The deck you took your wedding pictures on. Ten years of property taxes. A hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars. You lived here because I let you. And I’m done letting you.”
“You can’t do this!” she snapped. “We have things pending! The bank is…”
She stopped.
Too late.
Miles tilted his head. “The bank? Pending? Pending how, ma’am?”
My mother tried to catch it, but panic made her clumsy. “We were just… exploring options. Possibilities. That’s all.”
But everybody on that porch heard it.
A month later, Tessa would find the paperwork. A refinance application with a bank in Mount Pleasant. And a home equity line of credit application for $250,000, with my mother listing herself as the owner of the property. One of them had already reached preapproval before stalling because a title document was missing.
The title document with my name on it.
Standing on that porch, I didn’t know all of that yet. But I knew enough.
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