The old house with its high ceilings and forty-two years of memories sold for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. I gave Daniel sixty-eight thousand for the down payment and put the rest into savings, telling myself it would be my safety net if I ever needed one.
What I did not do, and what still haunts me, was insist on being put on the deed of the new house right away. Daniel told me it was unnecessary. He said the house was for all of us and there was no point complicating the paperwork.
And I, like a fool, trusted him.
The new place was in a gated subdivision called North Alpine Estates, with a security booth at the entrance and a little row of trimmed hedges in front of every house. Three bedrooms. Two and a half baths. A two-car garage. Clean, modern, and somehow cold.
The first few months were bearable. I got up at five in the morning. I made Daniel’s coffee the way he liked it, strong with a little cinnamon. I cooked breakfast, woke up Michael and Sarah, combed hair, packed lunches, and walked them to the school bus stop.