Chapter 3 - The House Robert Never Gave Away
Céline marched toward her before Marguerite had fully closed the car door.
“Are you serious?”
Marguerite removed her sunglasses.
“Completely.”
Behind Céline stood Damien, Grégoire, Julie, and the children.
Luggage surrounded them.
Coolers sat on the driveway.
And on top of one cooler was Marguerite's strawberry cake.
Léo ran toward her.
“Grandma!”
Marguerite opened her arms.
He hugged her.
That mattered more than everything else.
“Why did you come in another car?” he asked.
Marguerite stroked his curls.
“Because there wasn't room for me, remember?”
Céline's face changed.
“Mom.”
Marguerite looked at her.
“What?”
“Don't involve the kids.”
“I didn't.”
She hadn't raised her voice.
That seemed to frustrate Céline even more.
Grégoire stepped forward.
“Can we just go inside?”
Marguerite looked toward the house.
White siding.
Blue shutters.
Robert's porch.
The hydrangeas were blooming.
She had spent thirty-one years making that place beautiful.
“No.”
Grégoire stared at her.
“What?”
“You're not staying here this weekend.”
Julie crossed her arms.
“You can't be serious.”
Marguerite turned toward her daughter-in-law.
“I am.”
“But we bought groceries.”
Marguerite almost smiled.
“You mean the groceries I bought?”
Julie flushed.
Damien finally spoke.
“Marguerite, maybe everyone should calm down.”
“I am calm.”
And she was.
That was what nobody knew how to handle.
They were accustomed to Marguerite apologizing.
Marguerite compromising.
Marguerite saying, “It's okay.”
This Marguerite frightened them because she wasn't angry.
She was finished negotiating her dignity.
Céline pointed toward the house.
“You invited us.”
“I invited my family on a family weekend.”
“And?”
“You decided I wasn't part of the family weekend.”
Nobody answered.
“So the invitation changed.”
Grégoire rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, this is ridiculous.”
Marguerite looked at him.
“Was it ridiculous when your sister told me I was a burden?”
“I didn't say that.”
“No. You just stood there.”
That landed harder.
Grégoire looked away.
Léo and Chloé were listening.
Marguerite didn't want them trapped in an adult argument.
She knelt.
“Sweethearts, there's a playground down the road. Why don't you ask your dad to take you for a few minutes?”
Léo whispered, “Are you mad at me?”
Marguerite's heart broke.
“Never.”
She kissed his forehead.
“This has nothing to do with you.”
Damien quietly took the children.
Once they were gone, Marguerite placed the burgundy folder on the hood of her car.
Céline stared at it.
“What is that?”
“The deed.”
Grégoire's expression changed.
“Why did you bring the deed?”
“Because apparently everyone needs a reminder.”
Marguerite opened it.
“This property belongs to me.”
“We know that,” Céline said.
“Do you?”
“Of course.”
“Then why did you take the keys to my house after telling me I wasn't welcome on the trip?”
Céline had no immediate answer.
Julie stepped in.
“Nobody said you weren't welcome at the house.”
Marguerite turned toward her.
“How exactly was I supposed to get here?”
Julie stopped.
Marguerite continued.
“Walk?”
Damien returned alone.
“The kids are with the playground attendant and some other families.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Marguerite, I'm sorry.”
Céline stared at him.
“Damien.”
“No,” he said.
Everyone looked at him.
“I should've said something this morning.”
Céline's jaw tightened.
Damien continued.
“I knew it was wrong.”
Marguerite appreciated the words.
But words after consequences were easy.
“Thank you,” she said. “But you didn't.”
He lowered his eyes.
Grégoire sighed.
“So what now? You make us drive home?”
“Yes.”
Céline laughed once.
“You're punishing your grandchildren.”
“No.”
Marguerite closed the folder.
“You are free to book a hotel and give them a wonderful weekend.”
“Hotels are expensive.”
Marguerite held her daughter's gaze.
“So is maintaining this house.”
Silence.
That sentence exposed something else.
Property taxes.
Insurance.
Repairs.
Utilities.
Landscaping.
Marguerite paid all of it.
Yet her family had gradually convinced themselves that access was automatic.
Grégoire looked at the folder.
“What are you going to do with the place?”
Marguerite didn't answer immediately.
Because she hadn't completely decided.
But Robert's letter was inside.
And Daniel had given her an idea during the drive.
“I’m considering several things.”
Céline's face changed.
“You're not selling it.”
Interesting.
Not: Are you thinking of selling?
You're not selling it.
As though she needed permission.
Marguerite tilted her head.
“Why not?”
“Dad built it for us.”
“No. Your father and I built it for our family.”
“Exactly.”
“And I am part of that family.”
Céline's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Marguerite picked up the folder.
“You forgot that.”
She walked toward the house.
Behind her, Grégoire called:
“Mom.”
Marguerite stopped.
“What?”
“What are we supposed to do?”
For decades, Marguerite had solved that question.
Where would they eat?
Where would they sleep?
Who would watch the children?
Who would lend money?
Who would cook?
Who would compromise?
Marguerite smiled sadly.
“For once, Grégoire, you'll figure it out.”
She entered the code.
The door unlocked.
Marguerite stepped inside.
Then closed it behind her.
She leaned against it.
Her hands were shaking.
Being strong didn't mean something didn't hurt.
She heard Robert's voice in memory.
Close the door.
They can learn gratitude outside it.
Marguerite walked through the house.
Everything smelled the same.
Wood.
Salt air.
The faint lavender cleaner she used.
Robert's old fishing hat still hung beside the back door.
Marguerite touched it.
“I did it,” she whispered.
Then she heard knocking.
She expected Céline.
Instead Damien stood outside alone.
Marguerite opened the door slightly.
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
His face was serious.
“About what?”
“The trip.”
Marguerite waited.
Damien glanced back toward the driveway.
“This wasn't just about there being no room in the cars.”
Marguerite felt a chill.
“I know.”
“No.”
Damien lowered his voice.
“I mean Céline and Grégoire had another reason they didn't want you here.”
Marguerite tightened her grip on the door.
“What reason?”
Damien hesitated.
Then he said the words that transformed a cruel family weekend into something much bigger.
May you like
“They were planning to talk about the house without you.”
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