Chapter 2
My phone screen lit up.
Anna texted, "Mom, get some sleep. Don't overthink it."
I replied, "I won't. I've got something important to do tomorrow."
Important business.
My twenty-five-year marriage ended on a winter morning.
I got up and pulled a navy blue coat from my closet. Anna gave it to me for my birthday last year. She thought I wouldn't notice the price tag she'd torn off.
It was 14,000 dollars.
I never wore it. But tomorrow was the perfect occasion.
Not for anyone else.
For myself. For the twenty-five years I'd spent.
*****
The next morning, I arrived at the Grant Manor half an hour before everyone else.
The Grant Manor was on Harmony Avenue, on the west side of the city. It was a three-story detached house with a yard.
Grandpa Grant left it to Edward when the family divided up the estate.
I pushed the door open and saw Bert sweeping the yard. He was seventy-eight, his back hunched, and the broom was nearly as tall as he was.
"Evelyn's here," Bert started to say something, but changed his mind and called me Evelyn instead.
"Bert," I said, helping him sit down. "Don't worry about it. Let Jack handle the sweeping."
"Jack quit last month. It's just me and Joe left now."
The three-story villa was watched over by two elderly men in their seventies.
I glanced around the dusty living room. The family portrait was still hanging on the wall—taken twenty-five years ago. I had Anna in my arms, and Edward stood beside us. Our smiles looked awkward, almost forced.
We'd only been married a year back then, still not really familiar with each other.
"Is he coming today?" Bert asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"With that woman and the kid?"
"Yeah."
Bert was quiet for a moment. "Evelyn, you've been through a lot all these years."
"It's not that bad. I've been doing alright," I said.
He looked like he wanted to say more, but then we heard the sound of cars outside.
It wasn't just one car.
I stood by the living room window, watching as two black vans pulled up at the gate.
The doors opened.
The first to step out was a young guy in his early twenties, who looked a lot like Edward when he was young. He glanced around, and couldn't hide his excitement.
Next came a twenty-year-old boy with glasses; he seemed a lot more reserved.
Then an eighteen or nineteen-year-old girl got out, clicking her high heels and swinging a designer bag. She wrinkled her nose at the old walls of the Grant Manor, clearly unimpressed. "Is this the Grant Manor Dad was talking about? It's so old."
Last to get out was a woman in her early forties.
Vivian Woods.
After twenty-five years apart, she still looked like she hadn't aged a day. Her makeup was flawless, her outfit was on point—definitely the type who never lets herself slip.
She linked arms with the last man to step out of the car.
Edward Grant.
He'd gotten old. Most of his hair had turned gray, and the lines on his face were much harsher than when he was young, but he still stood straight and proud.
He paused at the gate, gazing up at the house for a long moment before finally reaching out to push the door open.
Bert hurried over from the yard, and when he saw Edward, he couldn't hold back his tears. "Mr. Grant, you've come home!"
Edward caught Bert and helped him steady himself. "How come it's just you here? Where did everyone go?"
"It's just me and Joe now," Bert replied.
"Where's Evelyn? And Anna?" Edward asked, scanning the yard for any sign of us.
Bert shot a look toward the living room.
Edward turned, following his gaze.
Our eyes locked through the floor-to-ceiling window.
Twenty-five years.
From twenty-six to fifty-one.
From a newlywed to an ex-wife.
I pushed open the glass door and stepped outside.
"You're back," I said.
Just two words, spoken so quietly.