She looked defensive.
“Because it was your inquiry.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It was for you.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Linda looked genuinely confused by his anger.
“I didn’t sign anything.”
“You represented yourself as me.”
“I didn’t represent myself as you.”
“You signed emails with my name.”
Michael pushed back his chair.
“Mom.”
“It was only to get information.”
“That is representing yourself as me.”
“Did Michael know you were doing this?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you believe I had agreed to add him to the title?”
Linda hesitated.
“I believed you would.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
“Why?” I asked.
Linda’s expression softened.
“Because you’re married.”
“That doesn’t mean I sign away half of everything I owned before marriage.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“How did you think of it?”
“As making your home truly shared.”
The chairs by Michael. The painting on the wall had been a wedding gift from my parents. The lamp in the corner had belonged to his father. Linda had simply chosen the one symbol that mattered most to her. Ownership.
