At first they played the expected roles. Compliment the view. Praise the renovation. Ask whether the drive from San Jose bothered me. Bring pastries. Stand at the windows like tourists in somebody else’s dream.
But Daniel’s questions accumulated.
“How often are they actually here during the week?”
“Does the neighborhood allow service providers to access the property if owners are away?”
“What’s the average occupancy around here in summer?”
“Do they ever think about traveling for a month or two?”
He phrased everything casually, as if curiosity were cost-free. But curiosity repeated in a single direction becomes intent.
I answered very little and noticed everything.
Claire changed too, though more quietly. She began describing the house not as “Mom and Dad’s place” but as “the cottage,” then later as “the property.” She once told my mother, while standing in the guest room holding a throw pillow that cost more than our childhood sofa, “You know, some people your age don’t really need this much house.” My mother laughed because she always laughed when she felt cornered.