Adele leaves me alone in the kitchen, snapping off the overhead light on her way out, as if I’m not standing there, as if I’m going to leave it on and cost her more in an electric bill. Old people get freaky about expenses. The fixed income that they welcome at retirement must feel like bait and switch. Inflation and recession screw up the best of plans. Surely this house is mortgage-free. I have no idea what the rents are from next door, but my guess is that they’re substantial enough that Adele and my father have been living comfortably on them since his retirement. Then I think of the yellowed vinyl siding and the neglected yard.

The only window in the kitchen looks out at the big three-decker. I can picture Adele standing in the window, looking over at the house on the day my father came home from the hospital with only his little girl and not his wife. Did her scheming start then, or was she honestly generous, like Diane Santos, with casseroles and kindness? There is nothing more endearing than a man alone with a child. Who could resist? And if the man came with a good job, plus a triple-decker, what woman wouldn’t set her cap for him? It made sense, this moving into Adele’s house, cramming me into a closet. One more rental unit made available.

Adele is in the living room, sitting on the couch that has been my bedroom for the past week. She isn’t doing anything, and I get the impression that she’s waiting for me. I come in and sit in the chair opposite her. Her white hair has lost the just-coiffed look and there is a tiny pull in her stocking. In the big cushy couch, she looks like a gnome. I feel the slow cooling of my stoked temper. She looks like what she is, a fragile old lady.

“The reason he wanted that house to go to you was that he thought you needed the stability.”

I would gladly give up the “stability” of owning the house next door for one moment when my father opened his arms and held me.

I’m exhausted with the day and this conversation. If I had hoped to slouch out of New Bedford with empty promises to keep in touch, I know now that’s impossible. I am forever tied to this woman. “For right now, we’ll split the rents.”

Adele’s expression is more one of victory than of relief and gratitude.

*   *   *