She stepped out and walked to the house.
The front door was open. Inside, noise and music mixed with the smell of alcohol, food, and unfamiliar bodies. Her furniture had been rearranged by strangers. Her porch chairs were outside in the yard. A cooler sat on the stone path Henry had laid decades earlier, melting water pooling between the stones.
She stood in the doorway for a long moment.
Then she spoke.
“Excuse me.”
No one reacted.
She repeated it, louder this time.
A few heads turned. Megan appeared from the kitchen, smiling as though nothing were wrong.
“Oh, Eleanor. You’re early.”
Eleanor simply looked at her.
“I live here,” she said.
Megan laughed lightly, dismissing it. “Yes, but we thought you’d be here tomorrow. Since everyone’s already here, we figured it was fine. Just family and friends. We thought we’d use the space instead of letting it sit empty.”
Eleanor’s gaze moved across the room—unknown people, her furniture, sand on her floors, glassware she recognized.
She turned back.
“Ask them to leave.”
The room shifted. The noise softened.
Megan’s smile tightened. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s just one weekend.”
Eleanor did not move.
“I said ask them to leave.”
Megan’s tone sharpened. “You’re really going to make a scene over this?”
Eleanor’s voice stayed level. “This is not your house.”
That sentence changed everything.
Megan crossed her arms. “You’re being selfish. Honestly, holding onto all this space when others could actually use it—”
She stopped, then let the thought land fully.
“It’s wasteful.”
The word hung in the air.
Eleanor felt something settle completely inside her.
“Get out,” she said.
This time, the room obeyed.
People began leaving quickly, collecting belongings, avoiding eye contact. Within minutes, the house emptied itself until only Megan remained.
“You’re making a mistake,” Megan said, though her certainty had begun to fracture.
Eleanor walked to the small desk near the hallway and opened a drawer. She took out a folder.
“I was going to give this to Robert next week,” she said. “But this timing works just as well.”
She pulled out a single page.
“A letter from my attorney. Regarding the trust for this property.”
Megan frowned. “What trust?”
“The one that determines who inherits this house.”
A pause.
Then Eleanor continued.
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