“You’ve already done too much for us, Lucas,” Mom whispered.
“No,” I said. “You did too much for me.”
There was one detail I deliberately kept simple.
The title remained in my name.
My parents could live there for the rest of their lives, but nobody could sell it, mortgage it, transfer it, or take it from them.
For three weeks, they were happier than I had heard them in years.
Then my sister Fiona arrived with her husband, Gregory, and their two teenage sons.
“Just a few days,” Mom told me over the phone. “The boys love the beach.”
A few days became two weeks.
Then my mother’s cheerful calls stopped.
When I finally reached her, her voice was so quiet I almost couldn’t hear it.
