I nodded. “That all sounds great. I’m just…not sure she’d ever give you up like that.” I paused. “Jack, is this why you never married? Has she always been this way?”
He scoffed and shook his head. “No. That’s what I’m telling you. She’s never been this way. The woman we are dealing with feels like a stranger to me.” He rubbed a hand over his face, inhaling sharply. “The truth is, Coralee isn't my biological mother. I don’t talk about it a lot because it never mattered to me. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known. My mom died when I was an infant, and my dad met Coralee before I’d even turned one. They always told me the truth about my real mother, but…Coralee was more of a parent to me than my dad ever was. Don’t get me wrong, Dad was a good father. But Coralee…it was like she lived to be my mother. She was the type of mom who cut my sandwiches into funny shapes for school and always…” He sniffed, though I saw no tears in his eyes when he looked at me. “Always peeled my apples. She was playful and fun, always coming up with games for us to play. And when I grew out of board games and wanted to play video games instead, she learned how to play those, too.” Somehow, I couldn’t picture Coralee playing video games in her evening gowns, the thought too out there to visualize. “Even when I got to be a teenager, when most boys rebelled against their moms, she was always…I don’t know, she was always there for me, ya know? She didn’t spoil me, I got into trouble plenty, but she was always there to listen. I guess I just felt like I owed her somehow. She didn’t have to be there for me, didn’t have to do all that she’s done for me—taking care of me my whole life, being there for me when my dad got sick. She didn’t have to do it, but she did. She loved me at my most unlovable. I guess I just don’t know when that all changed. She’s not this person, Loren. I swear to you she’s not. It’s…I don’t know if it’s because she’s grieving or because she feels like she’s losing me. It’s like someone came in and replaced my mom, and I never even got to say goodbye. I just abandoned her when she needed me the most, and I don’t understand it. I don’t know what the right thing is here. All I know is…that woman living in your house is not my mother.”
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand between the two beds. “We should go soon if we want to make it on time. I don’t want to be billed for any longer than we have to.”
He nodded, standing from the bed. When I stood with him, he took hold of my shoulders, lowering his head so he could meet my eyes. “I want you to know that I’d never regret choosing you and that I’m going to do whatever it takes to fix this mess I’ve put us in. I promise you that.”
I stood on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his. It was brief and cold, but still the most warmth I’d felt in so long. “I know,” I told him, flicking a piece of hair from my shoulder.
Whatever it takes—that was exactly what we were going to do.
* * *
An hour later, we stood outside of the lawyer’s office. It was a grand, white house near the center of town, with four large front windows, an oversized navy blue door, and four giant pillars.
“I feel like we’re going to see the President,” Jack tried to joke as we walked from our car and toward the porch. There was a brass plaque that displayed the business hours and our lawyer’s name, Mr. May. He felt more like a calendar girl than a lawyer, but…whatever.
Jack twisted the knob and we entered the building. It was several degrees warmer than the cool air outside and carried a distinct, stale odor in the air. We walked across the hardwood floors, our footsteps echoing with each step.
Jack cleared his throat. “Um, hello?” A desk sat in the front office, but there was no one in its chair. He glanced at me with a shrug.
I was preparing to call out again when I finally heard footsteps. I walked forward, toward the doorway that led out of the foyer, and spied two slack-clad legs descending the staircase. With a few more steps, we could see his head. Balding with white hair and kind blue eyes, he smiled at us brightly and held out his hand long before he’d reached us.
“Hello, you must be my two o’clock,” he glanced at his watch, “and I guess I’m late. Sorry about that. I’m Marcus May.”
Jack took his hand first. “Jack Wells,” he said, “and this is my wife, Loren Wells.”
I shook his hand as well. It was so large, mine felt child sized in his palm.
“Nice to meet you both.” He waved us down the hall and toward an office on the left, flipping on a light. The office was basically empty, a desk taking up most of the space. The desk featured a set of large law books, held together with brass bookends. A diploma and a few photographs of two children hung on his walls. He pulled out two black chairs in front of the desk, gesturing for us to sit down, then took a seat in the oversized executive chair across from us.
“So,” he pulled a notebook from his desk drawer, flipping through it, “Jack, I know we spoke on the phone and you mentioned some issues with…um,” he pulled his glasses up to examine the page closer, “your mom, it says here, is that right?”
Jack nodded. “She’s living in our home and refuses to leave. It was originally supposed to just be for a short time, but now she’s planning to stay long term and we never agreed to that. We tried to call the police, but they directed us to you.”
Mr. May smiled as if he thought we were joking, looking back and forth between us. When we didn’t smile back, his expression changed. “Okay, so, yeah, they’re right to direct you here. Unfortunately, in cases like this, it isn’t as simple as having a trespasser taken out of your home. Legally, you let your mother live there, for however long, and without a written agreement—I’m assuming you didn’t have one of those?”
We shake our heads simultaneously.
“Yeah, without a written agreement in place, there’s a bit more flexibility for the quote-unquote,” he made air quotation marks, “tenant.” He grabbed a pen and clicked the end. “So, that’s the bad news. The good news is, it’s not impossible. It just takes a bit of time and…” he rubbed his fingers together to indicate money. We nodded. “So, when did your mother move in exactly?”
Jack gave him the date—we’d calculated it the night before in preparation. We weren’t sure we could figure it out, but after flipping back through text messages, we found it.
“So, nearly three months,” Mr. May said, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Has she contributed financially to anything in your home? Given money for utilities, food, paid you anything for allowing her to stay there?”
“She’s bought groceries a few times,” Jack said. “Mostly for herself. And, she bought some wallpaper—”
“That she destroyed and had to replace,” I added.
Mr. May nodded, scribbling down notes as we spoke. “Does your mother have money, Jack? A place to stay when she leaves your house? Does she have anyone who she could stay with?”
“I’m an only child and my father passed away shortly before Mom moved in. She has plenty of money, though. Life insurance, and then she just sold her house as well.”
His eyes grew wide and he looked up at us. “Did she sell her house with the understanding that she could stay with you?”
“No,” I said adamantly. “That was never the agreement. I thought weeks, maybe a month. We agreed to let her stay until she was back on her feet after losing Jack’s father, that was it. She sold the house without our knowledge.”
His expression was patronizing. “See, that’s where we’ll struggle because ‘back on her feet’ isn’t a legal term. It could mean something different to you than her.” He scratched his forehead. “And her having excess funds means she could fight us for even longer. She could drag this out.”
Jack looked at me, taking my hand. “We met with a realtor this morning to sell the house. We’re worried it may be our only option, albeit a last resort. But…we don’t know if Coralee will let us show the house. She never leaves it.”
He chuckled under his breath. “She’s going to be a troublemaker, then, isn’t she?” Leaning forwa
rd onto his desk, he met my eyes. “Look, I won’t lie and say this will be easy, but I can get her out of there. As the homeowners, the law is ultimately on your side. If you decide to sell it, you only have to give her sixty days written notice. We can do that today. She’s legally required to let you show it as often as you’d like given twenty-four hours notice, but,” he grimaced, “we can’t force her not to be there during the showings.”
I rolled my eyes, hoping and praying we could find someone to buy it sight unseen. Oakton was a seller’s market, after all, and our tiny town was just an hour’s drive away.
“The good news is, you’ve got me on your team now. We’re going to handle this together.” He smiled. “Now, will you be paying with cash or a check?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Loren
We lived in the hotel for three more weeks before the first potential showing. Jack and I followed our lawyer’s advice and overnighted a letter to Coralee, explaining that we would be there, with our realtor, a half hour early to make sure everything was in order for the showing.
It didn’t say it word for word, but the fine print was there: make yourself scarce. Jack had tried to call her a few times, but got no answer. Eventually, we’d given up.
We drove to the house that afternoon with fear and apprehension in our bellies. It had been almost a month since we’d seen our home, and it nearly made me sick to think of what Coralee might be doing to it—in it. I had nightmares of her performing satanic rituals, smearing the walls with thick, sticky blood. So, I figured anything less than that couldn’t be too bad.
Still, when we pulled into the driveway and I saw the house looked basically the same, I let out a heavy sob, breathing through my mouth to keep the tears from falling. Jack was silent, his jaw tight, as he put the car in park.
The mailbox was crammed full, the flap unable to be shut. It looked like she hadn’t checked the mail a single time. Our certified letters had to be signed for, or else she might never have seen them either. We approached the house cautiously, the way you’d approach a hissing cat.
When Jack knocked on the door, I nearly lost it. Why should we have to knock at our own home?
When there was no reply, he turned the knob, pushing it open. I sucked in a deep breath, covering my mouth to conceal my screams.
“What the hell?” he cried, speaking my thoughts into existence.
The house was littered with dirty dishes, trash, and dirty clothes. The kitchen had standing water on the floor. It reeked of rot and sewage. There were boards and sawdust everywhere, walls down—she’d obviously been doing some renovating.
I gasped as Coralee entered the room, dressed in some of my best clothes—now splattered with a hideous yellow paint.
“I didn’t know I was expecting company,” she said.
“Coralee, what have you done?” I demanded. “This is not okay.”
“To what were you referring, dear?”
“We have potential buyers coming here any moment. They can’t see the house like this.”
She clicked her tongue. “Pity, I don’t think it could be cleaned up in time.”
I balled my hands into fists, my body shaking with rage. Jack put a hand on my shoulder to calm me, but it had no effect. “Let’s just clean up what we can.”
“I won’t touch this filth—”
A knock on the door interrupted us, and I turned around to see our realtor just as a mouse scurried across the floor. I squealed, jumping out. “Out! I want out!” I cried, pushing my way past Jack and out the door so I could breathe the fresh air.
The realtor, Jerrika, jumped out of my way. “What’s the—” She stopped as a whiff of the air from in our home hit her. “Oh my God.” She lifted her manicured nails to cover her mouth and nose. “What is that?”
“That would be our pest problem,” I spat through gritted teeth. “My mother-in-law.”
“I see,” Jerrika responded, nodding stiffly. She seemed to contemplate the situation. “Look, I think it’s best if we cancel today’s showing. I can’t—I can’t bring people in there.” Her tone was apologetic, and I nodded, though I could feel nothing but rage.
“What the hell are we supposed to do, then?” I demanded. “We can’t get her out unless we sell the house, and we can’t sell the house if she keeps this up. Our only option is to let her stay until we can have her legally removed?”
The realtor twisted her lips in thought. “There’s one other option, but you won’t like it.”
“We’ll do anything,” Jack said, coming to stand by my side.
“We could lower the cost of the house. You don’t have a mortgage on it, so you wouldn’t lose money. I know it’s not ideal, but we could lower it, label it as a fixer-upper, and I could try to market it to investors looking to flip it. There’s a good chance it’ll sell without them having to see any more than the outside pictures.”
I chewed my bottom lip nervously. “This place is all I have left of my mother, my grandparents…I have so many happy memories here.” I brushed away a stray tear. “I…I planned to live there until I died, then pass it on to Rynlee.”
Jack touched my shoulder, leaning in to kiss my scalp. “We don’t have to do this. There has to be another way.”
I choked out another sob, unable to look at either of them. “There’s no other way, Jack. She’s won. Don’t you get it? Even if we got it back, the money it would take to fix that place up after all she’s done…it would ruin us.”
He kissed my head again. “I’m so sorry.” It was all he could say. All any of us could say. It was done. Now we just had to get out while we were still above water.
I would’ve preferred drowning to my next sentence. “Do whatever you have to do. Just sell it.”
* * *
Jerrika lowered the price from three-hundred thousand to eighty thousand the next day. It was practically giving it away. A house down the street, not nearly as nice, had sold for seven-hundred-fifty thousand just a few weeks back.
It didn’t matter. I was numb. I just wanted it gone.
Rynlee and I were at the shop when Jack’s number popped up on my screen.
“Hello?” I asked, passing Rynlee a daffodil to place in the arrangement we were working on.
“Hey, guess what?”
“What?” I froze. I couldn’t tell if his tone was happy or scared.
“Jerrika just called. We sold the house.”
I clutched my chest, feeling relief and pain all at once. “We…we what?”
“Yeah, she just got the official offer in. Full asking price, sight unseen. They’re paying in cash. We still have to wait out the remainder of our sixty-day notice for Coralee, but we did it, Lor. We’re free of her.”
I swallowed, sinking down on the bench behind me. My hands shook as I replayed his words over and over in my head. “It’s over?”
I could tell he was smiling through the phone. “It’s over.”
“Thank you, Jack.” I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for, but I hung up the phone, still in a daze. I pulled Rynlee toward me.
“What’s the matter, Momma?” she asked, running her fingers through the tears on my cheeks.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” I told her, nuzzling into her shoulder. “We’re going to finally be able to get a house. Isn’t that exciting?” Thank God five-year-olds don’t understand subtext.
She frowned. “But I like our old house.”
“I do too, baby. But it’s not ours anymore. Someone else is going to live there now.”
“What’s wrong?” Becky asked, coming around the aisle.
I smiled through my tears. “We sold the house.”
Her face was solemn, not celebratory, which was exactly what I needed as she pulled me into a hug, too.
“Did you tell Meredith you were selling it?” she asked when we separated.
I shook my head. “I haven’t heard back from her in a while. I don’t want to bother her.”
“You’d think s
he’d want to know, though, right?” She shrugged. “I can’t believe she’s been gone this long. I don’t know how you put up with her flakiness.”
To be honest, Meredith was the last thing on my mind. I gave her a warning glance directed toward Rynlee. “She’s family,” I said firmly.
“Yeah, well, as you’re learning, family isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.” She flipped my hair playfully, letting me know she was kidding, but it was true. “Are you going to buy a new home here?” she asked, a subject Jack and I had approached a few times but never came to a decision on.
“I honestly don’t know. Our businesses are here, so it makes the most sense.”
“But…?” She waited for me to go on.
“Ryn, can you go over there and finish picking up those flowers for Mommy?” I asked, nudging her toward the stack of dead tulips on the ground. She obliged, hurrying toward them, already anxious to play in the dirt surrounding them. I looked at Becky. “But I worry Coralee will find us if we stay here. She knows where we work, she knows what we drive. It doesn’t feel safe to stay.”
She nodded. “What will you do, then?”
“Sell, I guess. I’ll offer Meredith the option to buy me out if she wants to keep running it alone. Or I guess I could run it from a distance and hire more employees. I don’t know, honestly. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
She touched my hand, offering a kind smile. “I was just asking, there’s no rush to figure it all out. One step at a time, okay?”
How was it that a girl so many years younger than me seemed to be the only one who understood how I felt? That I’d come to rely on her so much?
I pulled out my phone, clicking on Meredith’s name and typing out a text. Becky was right. She needed to know.
Mer, I really need you. You’ve gone MIA at the worst possible time. We’re selling the house and moving, I can’t keep the business anymore either. I need you to call me as soon as you see this. Xx.
The Mother-in-Law Page 17