Mom went completely still.
The empty bags slid from her hands.
“Mrs.
Vale,” she said.
Not hello.
Not what are you doing here.
Just the name, spoken with the frightened recognition of someone seeing a witness she had forgotten existed.
Marianne looked at the bags.
Then at my father.
“Mr.
Whitmore,” she said, “I thought you told the court your daughter would remain in this home.”
For a moment, even the truck seemed to go quiet.
Dad recovered first.
“There’s been a misunderstanding.”
Nora stepped into the hallway.
“Movers, please leave everything where it is.”
The man in the knit cap nodded immediately.
“Happy to.”
He and his partner went outside.
Chloe stopped halfway down the stairs.
“What court?”
Nobody answered her.
I looked at Marianne.
“What court?”
Her expression softened.
“Clara, your parents have filed a petition asking to be appointed guardians over you and your finances.”
I heard every word.
