« Well, » she said, holding her glass. « That sounds just like you, Hannah. Quiet. Simple. Peaceful. »
A few people gave nervous laughs. I looked at my mother, but she was staring at the tablecloth as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Robert finished the legal talk, but I didn’t hear much of it. It wasn’t the cabin that bothered me; it was the silence. My father hadn’t been gone for even a day, and the room had already decided I was just a footnote in his life.
Later, as people were leaving, Megan caught me in the hall. « You should go see it, » she said in a bright, fake voice. « It might suit you more than you think. »
« Maybe I will, » I said, picking up my bag.
« You always did like simple things, » she added with a shrug. I walked past her before I said something I’d regret for years.
The next morning, my mother came to my hotel with coffee. She looked at me with that practical expression she always used to hide her feelings. « Megan didn’t mean anything by those comments, » she said.
« She meant every word, » I replied.
My mother sighed. « Megan just understands business and property. You’ve always lived a different kind of life. » There it was—a soft, polite way of telling me I didn’t matter as much.
By noon, I was driving north in a rental car. As the big highways turned into small backroads and deep forests, everything got quieter. By the time I reached the mountains, my anger had turned into curiosity.
The cabin sat at the end of a gravel driveway. It looked old, but not ignored. I turned off the engine and listened to the wind in the trees. I expected the house to be dusty and cold, but when I unlocked the door, a soft, warm glow met me.
