Morning came the way I had planned it for ten months. I made my coffee, sat at the kitchen table in the house I owned, and slid the letter to the top of the mail pile so it would be the first thing Nathaniel touched. He opened it standing at the counter, still in his work shirt, scanning it the way he scans everything that concerns me, which is to say barely. Then he stopped. “New terms,” he read aloud. “Rent increase. Effective immediately.” He snorted. “This landlord. Unbelievable.” He had not reached the signature yet.<\/p>\n
Priscilla leaned over his shoulder, and she reached the bottom first. I watched her face change, the freshly done nails going still against the paper. “Nathaniel,” she said slowly, “why does it say H and G Bait and Tackle.” My son laughed, that same laugh from my birthday. “Dad’s old company. So what.” And then Priscilla pointed at the line beneath it, the owner’s signature, and said the sentence I had been waiting ten months to hear. “Why does your landlord have your mother’s name?”<\/p>\n
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