“Send me everything,” I said.
“I will.”
“And Peter?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t contact Daniel.”
“I wouldn’t without your permission.”
After we hung up, I remained at the desk.
Five minutes later, the documents arrived.
I opened the agreement.
There was my signature.
There was Daniel’s.
There was Rebecca’s.
And beneath the addendum was something I had completely forgotten.
A handwritten sentence beside Rebecca’s initials:
Loan repayment will protect Maggie’s future housing needs if she ever chooses to live independently again.
I read it twice.
Rebecca had initialed it.
Daniel had initialed it.
So had I.
They had known.
At least once, they had known.
The question was not whether the loan existed.
The question was how all three of us had managed to live for four years as though my independence never would.
I closed the document and stared into the darkening room.
Daniel had said we needed to talk about the house.
Now I knew why.
But one question remained.
If Rebecca had once signed a promise meant to protect my independence, when had she started believing my independence no longer mattered?
PART 3
Daniel’s family returned Sunday afternoon.
I knew because Emily called me from the airport.
