We never met for coffee.
I did not need that ending.
I had already lived the important one.
A year later, I sold the lake cabin.
That surprised everyone.
Laura said:
“After everything he tried to do?”
“That’s exactly why.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to keep something forever just because Daniel wanted control of it.”
The cabin had been my mother’s.
I loved it.
But I didn’t want it anymore.
I sold it to a young couple with two children who ran through every room asking where bunk beds could go.
The wife apologized.
“Sorry. They’re excited.”
“Let them be.”
At closing, I signed the deed.
Voluntarily.
My hand.
My signature.
My choice.
I took part of the money and bought a smaller place near Laura.
The rest stayed invested.
No dramatic mansion.
No revenge purchase.
A two-bedroom house with a porch and terrible kitchen cabinets.
