“You already hired a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Her face lost some of its color.
“You planned this behind my back.”
“No. I made a decision about my own home.”
Her eyes filled.
“How could you do this to me?”
I hated seeing her cry.
But I did not change my mind.
The following weeks were difficult.
Some days Lily barely spoke to me.
Other days, she appeared at my bedroom door crying.
“Mom, please. We can work this out.”
Part of me wanted desperately to believe her.
But every time I asked what she actually wanted to change, the discussion returned to the same subjects.
Cancel the sale.
Let her stay indefinitely.
Promise that the house would eventually be hers.
She never asked what I wanted.
Not until Ramon arranged a meeting.
Lily arrived at his office with a notebook and a determined expression.
She sat down and began immediately.
“My mother isn’t thinking clearly.”
I turned toward her.
Ramon remained calm.
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s seventy.”
He waited.
“And?”
Lily blinked.
“She’s making impulsive decisions.”
Ramon looked at me.
“Mrs. Ellington, would you like to explain your plans?”
I did.
I described the sale.
The smaller home I intended to purchase.
The financial arrangements I had considered.
My desire to travel.
My intention to keep enough savings for healthcare and future living expenses.
When I finished, Ramon turned to Lily.
“Your mother has been deliberate about this decision. She understands the transaction and its consequences.”
Lily’s jaw tightened.
“But what about my children?”
“I want Gabriel and Sofia to be safe,” I said. “That’s why I’m giving you time to arrange suitable housing.”
“With what money?”
I looked directly at her.
“You told me last month that you received a job offer.”
She became quiet.
“You said the salary was good, but the commute was inconvenient.”
Lily looked down.
“I’ve been caring for the children while you search for work. I can help you make a transition plan. But I cannot be your permanent housing solution because you prefer it.”
Her eyes filled again.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
I took a tissue from the box on Ramon’s desk and placed it beside her.
“I know you’re frightened.”
She looked at me.
“But being frightened does not give you the right to hurt me.”
For once, she had nothing to say.
I visited the bungalow in Batangas soon afterward.
It was even better than the photographs.
Two bedrooms.
A bright kitchen.
A shaded veranda.
A little garden large enough for roses, herbs, and flowering shrubs without becoming another full-time job.
The sea was about ten minutes away on foot.
That morning, the air smelled faintly of salt and bread from a nearby bakery.
I stood on the veranda listening to the breeze moving through the trees.
Teresa watched me.
“What do you think?”
I smiled.
“I think I could be happy here.”
We completed the purchase properly.
The proceeds from the Quezon City house were enough to pay for the bungalow and leave substantial savings.
I met with a financial adviser and arranged the money conservatively.
I did not need excitement.
I needed security.
Enough for healthcare.
Enough for ordinary living.
Enough to enjoy some of the things Arturo and I had postponed.
Ramon also helped me review the estate documents.
I made provisions for Gabriel and Sofia through arrangements that would be managed according to the law and the terms of the documents.
I designated gifts to causes Arturo and I had supported for years.
Whatever rights Lily might have would be handled according to the law.
But I made one principle clear.
Nobody was entitled to control my money while I was alive.
And I was not going to promise Lily an inheritance in exchange for basic respect.
When the moving truck arrived, Gabriel stood in the hallway holding his stuffed dinosaur.
“Lola?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are you leaving us?”
My heart tightened.
I lowered myself carefully so we could look at each other.
“I’m moving to a smaller house.”
“Why?”
“Because this one is too big for me now, and I want to live somewhere near the sea.”
His face fell.