The record player.
Even the cabinet Edmund and I had bought with our wedding money.
My children had not come to the airport because they were too busy deciding what they wanted from my house.
Corinne walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate.
“You finally made it.”
I looked at her.
She frowned.
“What took you so long? We waited before eating, but the kids got hungry.”
I slowly set my carry-on beside the stairs.
“What are those labels?”
She followed my eyes.
“Oh. That.”
“Yes. That.”
“Wesley thought it would be easier to mark the things people were interested in before everyone started arguing.”
“Interested in?”
“Mom, nobody is taking anything tonight.”
“That rocking chair belongs to me.”
Corinne rolled her eyes.
“We know.”
“Then why is your name on it?”
She exhaled.
“Because someday it won’t belong to you.”
The sentence was so casually cruel that I almost admired it.
← Previous Page
Next Page →
