Russell read it twice. The owner listed on the deed was the Holloway Family Trust, Margery Holloway, sole trustee. Beneath it, Martin had clipped a second page: a notice ending their rent-free occupancy, effective January thirty-first. Tamara snatched the folder from his hands, scanned it, and went white. “You can’t do this,” she whispered. “We’ve lived there eleven years.” “Rent-free,” I reminded her.

Before anyone could say another word, the front door opened again. It was Philip, my younger son, snow melting on his shoulders. He looked at Russell, then at Tamara, and then at me. “Mom, I’m sorry I said nothing today,” he said, breathing hard. “But you need to know why everyone stopped inviting you. Tamara’s been telling the whole family you have dementia.”