They never asked enough questions about the company. They didn’t carefully read every page of the lease. And they never wondered why the owner’s attorney answered so quickly whenever the property required maintenance.
I had kept the truth hidden for four years.
I remained silent through the comparisons with Natalie, the remarks about my career, and the holidays when my parents behaved as though allowing Leo to sit beside me was a favor. Keeping the peace had always seemed easier. Sitting inside the warm SUV, with my son finally away from the cold, I couldn’t remember why.
I called David, my real estate attorney.
He answered on the third ring. “Nicole? It’s Thanksgiving.”
“I know.”
He noticed something in my voice and became quiet.
“Do you still have the Westchester file?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“The original lease?”
“Yes.”
“And the signed violation clause?”
This time, he paused longer. “Yes.”
Through the windshield, I watched shadows moving behind my parents’ curtains. Dinner was continuing without us. They had already made space for Natalie and Terrence.
