Then he smiled.
“Are you buying the townhouse?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“You’ve been thinking about it for a week.”
“At seventy-three, that counts as impulse buying.”
Three days later, I made an offer.
Not because Daniel wanted me to.
Not because Rebecca encouraged me.
Not because Linda declared the patio “criminally perfect.”
I made the offer because I stood alone in the empty living room, sunlight crossing the floor, and could imagine my life there without needing anyone else to approve it.
The seller accepted.
I used savings for the down payment.
Daniel and Rebecca paid twenty thousand dollars toward the family loan.
Peter drew up a new agreement for the remaining sixty-five thousand.
Reasonable interest.
Monthly payments.
No surprises.
No children’s education money.
No emergency refinancing.
