When Beth spoke again, her voice was quieter. If you change everything, what happens to her? Tom's expression softened. Beth swallowed. I know it sounds stupid.
It doesn't. If you sell, somebody paints over the kitchen. They tear out the garden. They throw away the wallpaper mom picked even though we all hated it. Tom almost smiled.
We did hate it. She loved it. She had terrible judgment in wallpaper. Beth laughed once, then covered her face and suddenly Tom understood. This had never really been about square footage.
Beth was not afraid of losing the house. She was afraid it was the last place where her mother still existed exactly as she remembered her. If Tom moved furniture, donated clothes, changed curtains, laughed with another woman in the kitchen, then life was continuing and part of Beth was not ready for that. Tom walked to the desk near the dining room and opened a drawer. He returned with a folded piece of paper.
What's that? A note your mother left in my toolbox. Beth unfolded it. Margaret's handwriting filled half the page. Mostly a grocery list, a reminder about furnace filters, a complaint that Tom had put screwdrivers in the wrong drawer again.
At the bottom, one sentence had been underlined twice. Use the good dishes. Stop saving everything for later. Beth read it again. Tom sat across from her.
She hated waste, he said, but she hated waiting even more. Beth's eyes filled. I don't know how to watch you move on. Tom reached across the table. I'm not moving on from her.
Beth looked at him. I'm moving forward with her having been here. The difference landed slowly. Not replacement, not eraser. Continuation.
That evening, Beth drove to Anna's apartment. Anna opened the door and immediately looked worried. Is he okay? He's fine. Anna stepped aside.
Beth entered but did not sit. For a moment, neither woman seemed sure which version of their friendship they were standing in. Then Beth asked the question directly. Are you serious about him? Anna took a breath.
I don't know yet. Beth's eyebrows lifted. That's your answer. It's the honest one. Beth said nothing.
I care about him more than I plan to, but I don't know what this becomes. And I didn't want to make promises just because everything suddenly got complicated. Beth looked away. Anna continued. You were the person who stayed when my engagement fell apart.
I should have trusted you enough to tell you earlier. Beth's face softened slightly. I still hate this. Anna smiled faintly. I assumed.
And I reserve the right to be uncomfortable. Fair. Beth looked back at her. Then don't make me find out last. Anna nodded.