I went back to the kitchen, pulled the chicken from the oven, and checked the potatoes.
That’s when Moren drifted toward the living room. I could hear the click of her heels on the hardwood.
“You know, Ruth,” she called out casually, “this house is really big for one person.”
I paused, oven mitts still on my hands.
“It’s the house Ray and I built our life in,” I said quietly. “It holds a lot of memories.”
She shrugged, examining her nails.
“Sure, but practically speaking, it’s a lot to maintain. All this square footage, the pool, the yard crews, the HOA fees. You’d probably be happier somewhere smaller. Less work. Less stress.”
Eddie stood by the dining table, pretending to adjust a place setting that didn’t need adjusting. He didn’t say anything. He just shifted his weight and avoided my eyes.
“I like my home,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I’m not ready to leave it.”
“Of course,” she said with that tight smile. “Just something to think about.”
But it didn’t sound like a suggestion.
It sounded like a plan being laid out in stages.
We sat down to eat. Eddie dug into his food with genuine appreciation.
“This is amazing, Mom,” he said between bites. “I forgot how good your cornbread is.”
My heart swelled a little.
“I’m glad you like it, honey.”
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