Dad complimented the potatoes.
Megan asked me what I did for work and seemed genuinely interested when I explained land surveying, which I appreciated because most people’s eyes glaze over after the word “topographic.”
Then Diane brought it up.
She set her fork down, folded her hands like she was about to deliver a quarterly earnings report, and said, “So, I think this is a good time to talk about the cabin.”
I took a sip of wine.
“Sure.”
“Travis and I have been talking, and Roy agrees.”
She glanced at Dad, who gave a small, uncomfortable nod.
“We think the fairest approach is to set up a family sharing arrangement. Travis has volunteered to take over maintenance, which I think is very generous of him.”
Travis, to his credit, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, though I suspect it was more about being praised in front of Megan than any actual humility.
Diane continued.
“We all love that cabin. Pop built it for the family, and I think he’d want us to enjoy it together. So our proposal is that Travis handles the upkeep, mowing, winterizing, general repairs, and in exchange, the family can use it on a rotating schedule.”
She said “the family” like it was a corporation with bylaws.
I set my wine down.
“And what does the family mean in this arrangement?”
“Well, Travis primarily, and me when I want a weekend away. And of course you, Cody, whenever you’d like.”
Whenever I’d like.
In my own cabin.
How generous.
Dad shifted in his seat.
“It seems fair, Cody.”
I looked at Dad.
He looked away.
Diane reached over and patted Travis’s arm.
“Don’t worry, honey. His cabin will stay in the family. You’ll get it eventually.”
She said it casually, like she was promising him the last slice of pie.
You’ll get it eventually.
Like the cabin was already earmarked for Travis, and it was just a matter of waiting me out.
Dad nodded.
Not a big nod, more of a head tilt, really, but it was there.
He agreed.
Or at least he didn’t disagree, which in Roy Harmon’s world amounted to the same thing.
My father had just silently co-signed the idea that my inheritance, the cabin my grandfather specifically left to me, would eventually pass to Travis, like I was a temporary inconvenience in the family’s property planning.
The table was quiet for a moment.
Megan was eating potatoes and clearly wishing she’d stayed home.
I almost laughed.
I genuinely, physically almost laughed because there is a specific kind of absurdity that hits you when people make elaborate plans for something that no longer exists.
It’s like watching someone carefully parallel park behind a car that’s already been towed.
I picked up my wine, took one more sip, and set it down.
“That’s interesting,” I said. “Really, it is. I’ve got a question, though.”
Diane smiled.
“Of course.”
“Which one of you plans to tell the man I sold it to last month?”
The silence that followed was the most complete silence I’ve ever experienced in a room with six people in it.
It was the kind of silence that has texture.
You could feel it press against your skin.
Travis lowered his beer slowly like it was suddenly very heavy.
Dad looked at me.
Actually looked at me for what felt like the first time in months.
Diane’s smile didn’t disappear.
It froze.
Her mouth stayed in the shape of pleasantness while her eyes did something entirely different.
It was like watching a computer crash while the screensaver kept running.