Chapter 15 - The Chair by the Curb
Mrs. Daley was still on the phone when I turned into Mom's street. Boxes lay along the sidewalk, some broken open. A framed picture of Dad had landed facedown in the gutter.
Mom made a sound I had never heard from her before.
I parked and called the nonemergency police line to ask for assistance documenting the dispute. While we waited, I got out and picked up the photograph. Its glass was cracked, but Dad's smile was untouched.
Daphne came down the steps. "You don't live here, Carmen."
"I do," Mom said from beside my car.
Daphne stopped. She had forgotten what Mom sounded like when she wasn't whispering.
A pair of movers hesitated by the truck. Mom told them she was the owner and did not consent to her furniture being taken. They called their supervisor and stopped loading until the dispute could be checked. Nico stood by the garage, pale and motionless.
"That chair," Mom said, pointing. "Bring it here."
Nico carried the repaired dining chair from beside the dumpster. He set it on the driveway. Mom sat down, resting her palms on the worn wooden arms.
"I paid for this house," she said to Daphne. "I buried my husband from this house. You will not throw my life into the street like garbage."
The officers who arrived documented the property dispute and the damaged belongings. They did not decide who owned every item on the spot. June, reached by phone, arranged the next steps with the movers and asked for a complete inventory.
Before we left, Mom asked for Biscuit. Nico brought him out on a leash. The dog nearly knocked her over trying to reach her hand.
Back at my apartment, Mom washed his bowl and made him a place by the kitchen door.
Among the rescued boxes, I found envelopes addressed to her that had never been opened. One contained a bank notice about the home-equity loan. Another contained a change-of-beneficiary request.
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The person listed to receive Mom's remaining savings wasn't Nico.
It was Daphne.
