The first missed installment came in August.
I noticed it on a Thursday morning while paying the cabin's insurance bill.
At first I assumed the transfer had been delayed.
By Monday, nothing had arrived.
I contacted Allison rather than calling Ryan directly.
She checked the agreement and sent a formal notice under its terms.
I disliked every minute of it.
I kept imagining him opening the letter at his kitchen table.
Three days later, Ryan called.
“I lost a contract,” he said.
“I couldn't make the payment.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was embarrassed.”
I closed my eyes.
Embarrassment had been his reason for not telling me about almost everything.
“The agreement says you need to give notice,” I said.
“I know.”
“Then you have to follow it.”
“Can't you just let this one go?”
There was the old opening.
I could have reassured him.
I could have said I understood.
I did understand.
But understanding did not require me to waive the agreement.
“Talk to your attorney about a plan,” I said.
“I won't make changes over the phone.”
His voice rose.
“I'm trying, Mom.”
“I hope you keep trying.”
He hung up without saying goodbye.
I sat at the kitchen table feeling miserable.
Then I made myself go to the walking group.
I wanted to stay home and stare at my phone.
Instead, I walked three miles beneath tall trees with two women who argued cheerfully about local road repairs.
When I returned, there was a message from Allison.
Ryan's attorney had supplied documentation of the lost contract and proposed a short cure schedule permitted by the agreement.
After review, I accepted the proposed timetable in writing.
I did not add interest for the sake of punishing him.
I did not erase the missed payment to spare his feelings.
He paid the overdue amount in two installments.
The next regular payment arrived on time.
I was relieved.
I was also tired of being grateful when my son did what he had promised.
Later that month, Megan called to ask whether I would meet her for coffee.
We chose the same café.
She had begun working extra hours and had separated their household accounts enough to track her income and obligations.
She and Ryan were attending counseling.
“I don't know whether we'll stay married,” she admitted.
“That is between you two,” I said.
“I know. I just wanted you to know we're not ignoring it.”
She looked at me carefully.
“I used to think Daniel was harsh with Ryan.”
“He could be.”
“He was also right about the project.”
“Yes.”
Megan stirred her coffee.
“I blamed you for making Ryan feel small.”
“I may have protected him too much.”
“That isn't the same as signing those papers.”
I was surprised to hear her say it so clearly.
She apologized again for Christmas.
This time she did not offer an explanation about her mother's plans.
She said she should have called and she knew I had spent the day alone.
I told her I appreciated the apology.
I did not invite her and Ryan to the next holiday.
That would have been a decision made to relieve the discomfort of the moment.
I was trying to make decisions that would still feel right the following morning.
Before we parted, Megan asked about the cabin.
I told her I liked the quiet and had planted peonies.
She smiled.
“Daniel always talked about those flowers.”
I looked at her.
“He told you?”
“Once, years ago. He said he wanted you to have a place where you could grow things.”
On the drive home, I thought about how many people had heard small pieces of Daniel's plan.
He had kept the surprise from me.
But the love behind it had never been secret.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: One Year After The Empty Christmas Table I Chose Who Would Share My Dinner
The Christmas Dinner I Prepared For Three Ended With A Courier At My Door
Part 14 of 16
