The Silent Takeover of the Only Home I Ever Truly Owned
“I won’t,” I said.
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up the heavy black receiver.
I immediately looked up the number for the local locksmith in town.
A man named Frank answered, his voice deep and gravelly.
“Frank’s Locks and Keys,” he said.
“Hello, I need to get my locks changed immediately,” I said.
“I have three external doors, all old brass mortise locks.”
“I can be there in twenty minutes,” Frank said.
“Thank you,” I said. “Please hurry.”
I walked back into the living room and looked around.
The space still felt crowded with Solene’s presence.
She had moved my grandmother’s hand-carved mahogany side tables into the hallway closet.
In their place, she had set up a pair of cheap, wire-rimmed utility shelves.
The shelves were piled high with her matching luggage and plastic storage bins.
I walked over to the first wire shelf and grabbed a stack of her designer hats.
I carried them to the front hallway and piled them near the door.
Next, I went into the dining room.
My grandmother’s lace tablecloth had been folded up and stuffed into a kitchen drawer.