We secured every original document in a safe-deposit box.
And we said nothing to Geoffrey.
That silence became its own burden.
He called three times.
Patricia let two calls go to voicemail.
On the third, she answered.
I sat across from her while she spoke.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Her voice was normal.
Maternal.
Warm.
That hurt more than anger would have.
I heard Geoffrey ask if everything was okay.
“We’re fine.”
A pause.
“No, your father isn’t angry.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Patricia ignored me.
“He’s disappointed.”
Another pause.
“Yes, that’s different.”
She listened for nearly a minute.
Then something in her expression changed.
“When?”
I straightened.
She held up one finger.
“Did Allison tell you that?”
Another pause.
“No, I’m asking whether she told you directly.”
Patricia’s eyes met mine.
“All right.”
When the call ended, she put the phone down carefully.
“What?”
“Geoffrey says Allison told him we were thinking about selling the house.”
