\u201cA two-bedroom bungalow on Linden Street,\u201d I said calmly. \u201cI bought it three years before you proposed. My tenant moved out last week.\u201d Gail recovered first, forcing a thin smile. \u201cThen you’ll sell it and put the money toward this house. That’s what family does.\u201d Brett slowly nodded beside his mother, almost as though the suggestion had already been discussed. I stared at my husband, waiting for him to object, but he remained silent.<\/p>\n
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Instead of answering, I reached into my bag and placed a manila envelope on the marble counter beside Gail’s dripping soup spoon. \u201cBefore anyone sells anything,\u201d I said, \u201cmaybe one of you should explain this.\u201d Gail glanced at the envelope, and every trace of color disappeared from her face. Through the clear window, the red letters were impossible to miss: NOTICE OF DEFAULT AND INTENT TO FORECLOSE. \u201cI found it hidden underneath the grocery list,\u201d I said. \u201cYou’re three months behind.\u201d Gail slowly sat down.<\/p>\n
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