Something else had appeared beneath it.
Nervousness.
I noticed.
“So there is something else.”
“There is nothing.”
“Then move.”
“You don’t need to go downstairs.”
“I need to inspect every room.”
“We’ve already told you what changed.”
“I would rather use my eyes.”
Matthew stepped away from the doorframe.
“Jessica, let her look.”
She turned on him.
“Why?”
His shoulders tightened.
“Because it’s her house.”
For one instant, I saw real fear on Jessica’s face.
Then it vanished.
She laughed.
“Now you remember that?”
Matthew lowered his eyes again.
The brief resistance disappeared.
Still, I had seen it.
So had she.
I walked downstairs.
Neither tried to physically stop me.
The living room had changed almost as much.
George’s recliner was gone.
A sectional sofa occupied its place.
My bookcase remained, but several shelves were empty.
Framed family photographs had disappeared.
Decorative baskets filled the gaps.
A large television stood against the opposite wall.
I stared at the empty corner.
“Where is George’s chair?”
“Garage,” Matthew said.
“At least you answered.”
His mouth tightened.
Jessica entered behind him.
“It was ancient.”
“He bought it when Matthew started high school.”
“That proves my point.”
“No, it proves you moved something that was not yours.”
I crossed to the mantel.
My wedding photograph was missing.
So was Matthew’s graduation picture.
In their place stood a framed photograph of Jessica and Matthew at a beach.
Another showed Jessica with two women I did not recognize.
“Where are my pictures?”
“The basement,” Jessica said.
“All of them?”
“They made the room look cluttered.”
“This room looked like my life.”
“You can’t expect nothing to change.”
“I expected nothing to change because I never invited you to change it.”
Her lips pressed together.
I moved toward the dining room.
The oak table remained.
Four chairs were gone.
Two modern upholstered chairs sat at either end.
My china cabinet had been shifted against another wall.
Its doors stood partly open.
I walked closer.
Several shelves were almost empty.
“Where are my dishes?”
Jessica waved a hand.
“Packed.”
“Why?”
“Nobody uses that stuff.”
“I do.”
“You haven’t used it in years.”
“You have known me for four years.”
“That’s enough.”
I opened the bottom cabinet.
The silver service George’s mother gave us was missing.
My stomach tightened.
“Where is the silver?”
Jessica stared at me.
Matthew suddenly looked toward her.
“What silver?” he asked.
I turned.
“The service from Grandma Ruth.”
“I didn’t know about that.”
Jessica answered too quickly.
“It’s packed.”
“Where?”
“Basement.”
“In which box?”
“I don’t know.”
“You packed it.”
“There were dozens of boxes.”
“Then we will find it.”
Jessica folded her arms.
“You’re acting like we robbed you.”
“You entered without permission and relocated my possessions.”
“We are your family.”
“You keep using that word like it erases boundaries.”
Matthew walked toward the kitchen.
I followed.
The kitchen window was open.
A late summer breeze moved the curtains.
My yellow kettle was gone.
A stainless-steel appliance occupied its place.
Magnets had been removed from the refrigerator.
George used to collect them during road trips.
Chicago.
Nashville.
Cleveland.
Gettysburg.
A ridiculous lobster from Maine.
I opened a drawer.
My utensils had been rearranged.
I opened another.
My recipe cards were gone.
“Where are my recipes?”
Matthew stopped.
“What?”
“The wooden box near the stove.”
He looked toward Jessica.
She looked irritated.
“I packed it.”
“Where?”
“With the kitchen things.”
“Those cards are in my handwriting.”
“I didn’t throw them away.”
“You had better not have.”
Matthew ran one hand through his hair.
“Mom, please.”
I looked at him.
“Please what?”
“Just give us tonight.”
“You already took two weeks.”
“We thought you’d be gone until Sunday.”
“That is not helping your argument.”
He exhaled.
“I know.”
That was the first honest sentence he had spoken.
Jessica stared at him.
I caught the look.
It was not disappointment.
It was warning.
Matthew noticed me watching.
He turned away.
Something shifted inside my understanding.
I had entered believing they were united.
Now I was less certain.
Jessica spoke before I could question him.
“You want the truth?”
“I have been waiting for it.”
“Matthew hates that apartment.”
Matthew closed his eyes.
Jessica continued.
“He hates paying rent when you sit here alone.”
“Jessica.”
“He complains about it constantly.”