Chapter 4: The Lake House

"Take off my mother's robe," I said.

Kendra laughed into the mug. "It was hanging on the hook."

"It's been on that hook for eleven years."

"Bryce says you never use this place anyway."

"Bryce doesn't own it."

I walked past her into the house.

The living room smelled of someone else's perfume.

My grandmother's quilt had been thrown over the back of the couch, and there was a wine bottle on the piano.

The framed photo of my parents had been turned face down on the mantel.

I set it upright, and I did it slowly so my hands wouldn't shake.

"Bryce said it was marital property," Kendra said behind me. "His lawyer told him he could stay here until the divorce settles."

"His lawyer was wrong."

"You signed everything last night. I watched you."

"I signed a settlement for the things on his list."

I took a folded paper from my coat pocket.

It was a copy of the deed, stamped by the Emmet County recorder in 2020.

"My father left me this house.

"The deed carries my name alone. It was never joint, and it was never on any list."

Kendra took the paper and read it.

Her face did not change, but her nails went white against the page.

"You have one hour," I said.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Then I'll call the sheriff, and the neighbors will watch you carried out in my robe."

I opened the front door wide.

Across the gravel, two houses down, the old couple from the next house were out on their porch with binoculars and coffee.

The wife had known me since I was six.

She waved at me with her whole arm.

Kendra saw it.

She tossed the deed on the floor.

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