Three men in dark suits stood on the wide stone steps, their arms crossed.

Standing in the center of them was Denise.

She wore a cream-colored wool coat and held a black leather handbag tightly against her side.

Her eyes locked onto my car as I pulled up to the circular courtyard.

I turned off the ignition.

The silence inside the car was sudden and absolute.

“Let me do the talking,” I told my mother.

“She has no right to keep me out of my own home, Natalie,” Eleanor said.

Her voice had a sudden sharpness I hadn’t heard in years.

We both got out of the car.

The wind hit us immediately, whipping my mother’s hair across her face.

My boots clicked loudly on the gravel as we walked toward the steps.

The three security guards shifted their stances, but they did not move down.

Denise took a slow step forward, looking down at us from the top landing.

“You should have stayed at the base, Natalie,” Denise said.

Her voice was clear and cold, cutting through the sound of the ocean below.