“You’re making this bigger than it is.”
I ended the call politely.
Then I finished packing.
My new apartment wouldn’t be ready for another week, but Clara offered to let me stay at her house until then.
I accepted.
For the first time in years, I chose not to remain somewhere simply because leaving might disappoint my parents.
Sunday evening arrived with clear skies and cool air.
Our extended family had reserved a private dining room at a restaurant near the old downtown district to celebrate my grandmother Ruth’s eightieth birthday.
There would be sixteen of us.
My grandmother had always loved birthdays.
She said growing older was worth celebrating, especially when it meant everyone could gather around a table and tell stories.
I didn’t want the evening to become another family argument.
I wore a simple navy dress and took a rideshare to the restaurant.
Clara was already there.
She sat beside Grandma Ruth, looking perfectly relaxed.
When she saw me, she smiled.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
I hugged her.
“Hi, Clara.”
She looked at my face for a moment.
Then she squeezed my hand.
“Everything’s going to be all right.”
I nodded.
I wanted to believe her.
A few minutes later, my parents arrived.
Wyatt came with them.
He was wearing a new shirt and looked pleased with himself.
He hugged Grandma Ruth, accepted congratulations on his new job, and took a seat beside my father.
I noticed the gray SUV’s key fob clipped to his belt.
My stomach tightened.
He was treating it as though it belonged to him.
Dinner began pleasantly enough.
Grandma told a funny story about her first job at a department store.
Clara asked my cousin about her new house.
My father discussed football with an uncle.
Servers brought salads, bread, and glasses of iced tea.
For a while, I almost forgot why I was nervous.
Then Grandma Ruth looked toward me.
“Valerie, sweetheart, how’s that beautiful new car Clara gave you?”
I glanced at Clara.
She was quietly setting down her water glass.
“It’s wonderful, Grandma.”
Grandma smiled.
“Good. I hope you’re enjoying it.”
Before I could answer, my mother spoke.
“Oh, Ruth, we actually made a little adjustment.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
My mother smiled around the table.
“Wyatt needed a reliable vehicle for his new position, so we let him use the SUV.”
Grandma frowned.
“Valerie’s SUV?”
My mother waved a hand.
“Just temporarily. Valerie can manage with other transportation. Wyatt needs it more right now.”
A few relatives looked toward me.
I kept my hands folded in my lap.
My mother continued.
“Family is about sharing what we have. We’ve always taught our children that.”
Clara set down her glass.
The tiny sound carried farther than it should have.
“Victoria,” she said, “can I ask you something?”
My mother smiled.
“Of course.”
“Who gave you permission to transfer that vehicle to Wyatt?”
The smile faltered.
“Clara, it’s only a family arrangement.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My mother shifted in her chair.
“We’re Valerie’s parents.”
Clara nodded slowly.
“Yes. You are.”
She reached into her handbag.
Then she removed a manila folder.
I watched her open it.
Inside were several neatly arranged documents.
She selected the first page and placed it on the table.
“Then let’s look at what being her parents actually authorized you to do.”
My mother stared at the document.
Clara turned it toward her.
Near the top was the legal name of Clara’s company.
Below it appeared the vehicle identification number, the purchase details, and the registered owner information.
My mother read the page.
Then she looked up.
“What is this?”
“The current certificate of title.”
My father leaned forward.
Wyatt uncrossed his arms.
Clara continued.
“The SUV was purchased through my company. The formal transfer into Valerie’s name is being completed as part of the gift arrangement.”
She placed a second document beside the first.
“This is the written authorization giving Valerie exclusive use of the vehicle while that transfer is pending.”
She pointed to a line near the bottom.
“Her name is here.”
Then she turned another page.
“And this is the company-approved disposition agreement documenting that the vehicle is being transferred to me personally so I can complete the gift to Valerie.”
My mother looked confused.
Clara explained patiently.
“The vehicle is not registered to Victoria Vance. It isn’t registered to David Vance. And it certainly isn’t registered to Wyatt Vance.”