My son hadn’t simply misunderstood a conversation. He had made decisions knowing they weren’t his to make, then counted on my love to rescue him.
I stood and picked up the wooden box.
“Then there’s something you need to understand.”
Daniel watched me remove the brass key.
“I was going to give you this after Olivia was born.”
He looked surprised.
“The basement?”
“Yes. Three months, possibly longer if things worked out. Your father finished that apartment because he always wanted family to have somewhere comfortable to stay.”
Daniel stared at the key.
“You were really going to let us use it?”
“I was.”
He took a step toward me.
“Mom, that would still help us so much.”
I closed my hand around the key.
“But I’m not offering it anymore.”
His face fell.
“What? Why?”
“I can’t invite people into my home when they’ve already decided my permission doesn’t matter.”
