Chapter 6 - A Room of One's Own
Settling into my new home was a quiet, glorious process.
Through an interior design firm managed by Patricia’s office, I ordered comfortable, timeless furniture—a soft linen sofa for the sunroom, a sturdy mahogany dining table where six people could sit comfortably, and a high-quality mattress dressed in crisp white cotton sheets.
I hired a local gardener named Mateo to help me expand the rose garden behind the pool. Together, we planted tea roses, iceberg roses, and two climbing vines of David Austin roses—the exact variety Harold had planted along our back patio in Tucson thirty years ago.
For the first time in two years, I woke up at 6:00 AM not to the sound of Renee slamming cabinet doors or Daniel shouting into his cell phone about corporate debt, but to the gentle chirping of birds in the oak trees outside my window.
I brewed my tea in a porcelain pot, walked out to the broad front porch, and sat on a wooden rocking chair, breathing in the cool morning air.
My life was peaceful, secure, and entirely my own.
However, the world outside Whispering Pines Lane continued to turn.
Two months after I moved into my new home, I received a phone call from Patricia Holloway.
"Margaret," Patricia said, her tone professional yet slightly intrigued. "I thought you should know that your son and his family have officially completed their eviction move-out from the Scottsdale property."
"Where are they staying?" I asked, holding my teacup steadily.
"They have rented a modest, two-bedroom apartment on the east side of town," Patricia reported. "Daniel has taken a job as a senior fleet dispatcher for a regional trucking firm. It's a modest salary, but it's steady. Renee has taken a part-time job as a receptionist at a dental clinic to help cover their living expenses."
A small, quiet smile touched my lips. "And the children?"
"Enrolled in the local public school district," Patricia added. "By all accounts... they are managing. They are living within their means for the first time in a decade."
"Good," I said softly. "That is very good news."
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"There is one more thing," Patricia said. "Renee has been spending her evenings searching public records and real estate listings, trying to figure out where you bought a house. She’s convinced you bought a place in the same city, and she’s posted several subtle queries on local neighborhood forums under a pseudonym."
"Let her search," I said quietly. "A little curiosity will do her good."
