Chapter 2 - NOBODY HERE MISSED YOUDorothy carried her suitcase upstairs herself.
Cole followed halfway.
“Mom.”
She did not turn.
“Mom, wait.”
Dorothy continued.
Sabrina remained downstairs.
Listening.
Dorothy reached the landing and finally looked back.
“What?”
Cole stopped.
He looked older than he had five weeks earlier.
Not physically.
Something about his face.
Tense.
Defensive.
“You didn’t need to make that dramatic.”
Dorothy stared.
“I made it dramatic?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
Cole glanced toward the staircase.
“Can we talk privately?”
Dorothy laughed once.
Softly.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“If you wanted privacy, you should have found your voice when your wife told me nobody missed me.”
Cole flinched.
“She was upset.”
“So was I.”
“She feels like you don’t respect her.”
Dorothy stared at him.
“Cole, your wife just told a sixty-eight-year-old woman not to come back to the house that woman owns.”
His jaw tightened.
“You always say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Your house. Your house. Your house.”
“Because it is my house.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
“I don’t.”
Cole sighed.
“Since Dad died, everything is frozen.”
That sentence stopped her.
Charles had been dead four years.
Rosehaven remained exactly where Dorothy wanted it.
She had not “frozen” her life.
She traveled.
Volunteered.
Hosted friends.
Spent time with both sons.
“What is frozen?”
“The house. Everything.”
Dorothy looked around the landing.
Family photographs lined the wall.
Charles holding baby Cole.
Jonah at thirteen in a baseball uniform.
Both boys at college graduations.
“What exactly would you like me to unfreeze?”
Cole’s mouth tightened.
“You know Sabrina and I have been helping here.”
“Helping?”
“We’ve stayed here.”
“At my invitation.”
“We’ve taken care of things.”
“Which things?”
“The yard. Repairs. Bills.”
Dorothy almost smiled.
“The gardener handles the yard. I paid the plumber before I left. And every household bill drafts from my account.”
Cole’s face reddened.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then make the point.”
He looked away.
Downstairs, a cabinet closed.
Sabrina was still listening.
Cole lowered his voice.
“Maybe spending time with Jonah was good for you.”
Dorothy’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should stay there longer.”
There it was.
Not a misunderstanding.
Not Sabrina’s temper.
A plan.
Dorothy spoke slowly.
“Are you asking me to move out of my own home?”
“No.”
“Then what are you asking?”
Cole rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, Rosehaven is too much house for one person.”
“One person?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
She picked up her suitcase.
Cole stepped closer.
“We’re trying to think about the future.”
“Whose?”
“Everybody’s.”
“Interesting.”
She walked toward her bedroom.
He followed.
“Mom.”
Dorothy opened the door.
And froze.
Boxes.
Three of them.
Her sewing basket sat inside one.
Several framed photographs were stacked against the wall.
Half the closet door stood open.
Inside, an entire section of her clothing was missing.
In its place hung Sabrina’s coats.
Dorothy did not move.
Cole stopped behind her.
Silence.
She pointed.
“What is that?”
Cole swallowed.
“Sabrina needed space.”
“In my closet.”
“You were gone.”
“For five weeks.”
“We thought—”
Dorothy turned.
“What?”
Cole stopped.
“What did you think?”
He could not answer.
Dorothy stepped into the room.
Charles’s photograph from the living room sat face down on the dresser.
She picked it up.
Turned it over.
Their wedding anniversary.
Charles smiling.
Dorothy younger.
Happy.
Alive in a world where no one had yet begun measuring her absence as an opportunity.
“Who moved this?”
Cole said nothing.
Dorothy placed it upright.
Then opened one box.
Her winter scarves.
Another.
Books.
The third contained photographs from the downstairs hallway.
Her life, packed.
Not discarded.
That would have looked cruel.
Prepared.
That was worse.
“We thought you were staying with Jonah,” Cole finally said.
Dorothy turned.
“Did I tell you that?”
“No.”
“Did Jonah?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Cole looked toward the doorway.
Sabrina had appeared.
“We were organizing.”
Dorothy stared at her.
“My life?”
Sabrina crossed her arms.
“The house needed updating.”
“And you decided I no longer belonged in parts of it.”
“You’re being emotional.”
Dorothy almost laughed.
There it was again.
A woman saying something cruel, then calling the reaction emotional.
Dorothy set Charles’s photograph carefully on the dresser.
Then picked up her handbag.
Sabrina’s eyes went immediately to it.
To the envelope inside.
Dorothy noticed.
Good.
“Before either of you tells me where I belong,” she said, “perhaps you should know why my attorney gave me this.”
Cole went still.
Sabrina’s face tightened.
“What attorney?”
Dorothy smiled without warmth.
May you like
“Exactly.”
Then she closed the bedroom door in their faces.
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