Chapter 4 - THE COST OF KEEPING IT
The insurance premium had nothing legally to do with Laura.
That was almost a relief.
Almost.
A week later Daniel sat with Helen's insurance agent, Walter Price, at the same dining table.
The premium had nearly doubled in three years.
Old roof.
Two water claims.
Rising replacement costs.
A carrier leaving parts of the state.
Nothing mysterious.
Helen could have changed coverage.
Raised the deductible.
Installed leak sensors.
Replaced the roof.
She had done none of it.
“Why?”
Daniel asked.
Helen stared at the statement.
“Because a roof costs money.”
“You just paid almost nine thousand dollars.”
“Spread over a year, replacement costs more.”
“Not if we finance it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She looked at him.
“You don't finance a house you're not sure you own.”
Walter Price looked up.
Daniel went still.
Helen had said it casually.
Too casually.
The agent excused himself twenty minutes later.
Daniel stayed.
“You thought Laura could take the house.”
“I didn't know.”
“You could have called a lawyer years ago.”
“With what money?”
“You had money.”
“Not enough for everything.”
Daniel looked at the prescription bag on the counter.
She had picked it up now.
Because he paid.
“How long have you been skipping medicine?”
Helen immediately looked away.
“Mom.”
“A few times.”
“That isn't a number.”
She said nothing.
Daniel opened the kitchen drawer where she kept pharmacy receipts.
It was none of his business.
She almost stopped him.
Then didn't.
Three prescriptions had been filled late over the past five months.
One by twelve days.
One by seventeen.
He put the receipts down.
“This house is not worth that.”
“To you.”
He stared.
“What does that mean?”
“You left.”
Daniel flinched.
“I moved out at twenty-three.”
“You built a life.”
“Yes.”
“And your father died here.”
Daniel softened.
Helen continued.
“Your first bicycle is still hanging in the garage.”
“Mom.”
“Your height is marked in the pantry.”
“Mom.”
“I buried a dog under that maple tree.”
He took her hand.
“Those are reasons to love a house.”
Then:
“They are not reasons to let it kill you.”
Helen pulled her hand away.
“You sound just like Laura.”
Daniel stopped.
“When did she say that?”
Helen's face changed.
Too late.
“You talked to her recently.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“No.”
“Then when?”
Helen sat back.
“1998.”
Laura had been twenty-one.
She came to the house without calling.
Daniel had been eleven and at school.
Frank was working.
Helen let Laura in.
Laura stood in the kitchen and asked why Frank's repayments had stopped.
Helen said business was slow.
Laura asked whether they would sell.
Helen said no.
Laura looked around the room where she'd lived at thirteen.
Then said:
It's a house, Helen. Stop acting like it's a person.
Helen told her to leave.
Laura did.
Daniel stared.
“You never told Dad she came?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He would have called her.”
“Was that bad?”
“I didn't know what he'd say.”
Daniel understood the sentence.
Control information.
Prevent conflict.
Call it protection.
Then something else occurred to him.
“What did Laura want the money for?”
Helen's expression shifted.
“College.”
That hit differently.
Laura had asked for money that belonged to her.
The Parkers could not give it back because it was inside Daniel's childhood home.
“Did she go?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Scholarships. Loans. Her aunt.”
Daniel looked down.
He had gone to college too.
Frank had helped him with tuition.
Not much.
Enough.
May you like
Daniel suddenly did not want to know where that money came from.
Then he realized he had to.
