“Yes?”
“I’m looking for Mrs. Eleanor Harris.”
Rebecca frowned.
“No one by that name lives here.”
From the hallway, Eleanor heard her name. Slowly, she stood and came forward.
“That would be me.”
The lawyer greeted her respectfully.
“I’m here regarding a pending legal matter connected to this property.”
Rebecca laughed nervously.
“There’s been a mistake. The house belongs to my husband.”
The lawyer opened his briefcase and presented the documents.
“According to public records, this house has been registered in Mrs. Eleanor Harris’s name for over thirty years.”
The air grew heavy.
“That’s impossible,” Rebecca said, her face pale. “We live here. We’ve put money into this place.”
“Living somewhere isn’t the same as owning it,” the lawyer replied evenly. “And Mrs. Harris never transferred ownership.”
Daniel arrived later that afternoon, summoned urgently. He listened, read the papers, and finally saw what he had never asked about. His eyes drifted to the hallway. The cot. The thin, worn blankets.
“Mom… how long have you been sleeping out there?” he asked, his voice shaking.
Eleanor lowered her eyes.
“For a while now, sweetheart. It’s nothing.”