“Farah is responsible for what she did. But I’m not going to let you make her the entire problem because you’re uncomfortable with your part.”
His face changed.
“I could have stopped it.”
“Yes.”
“I could have called you.”
“Yes.”
He pushed his plate away.
“I kept thinking if it worked, everybody would calm down.”
“That isn’t how permission works.”
“No.”
We sat quietly.
Then he said something I hadn’t expected.
“You make it easy to call you.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“When I screw up. You’ve always been there.”
“I am your mother.”
“I know. But sometimes I think I never learned how bad it feels to let a problem sit there until you have to solve it yourself.”
I looked at him.
My first instinct was to defend myself.
I could have listed all the times George and I made him work for something, pay a bill, apologize, take responsibility.
Some of it would have been true.
But so was what Theo was saying.
When he was short on rent at twenty-four, I covered it.
When his car died at twenty-eight, George helped him buy another.
When he lost a job at thirty-five, I paid two months of his mortgage before things became serious.
We had been helping.
But sometimes helping had arrived before consequences had time to teach him anything.
“I probably did make it too easy sometimes,” I said.
Theo looked up.
“I wasn’t blaming you.”
“I know.”
“You were helping.”
“I know that too.”
We talked until nearly nine.
Not much about legal letters or rental platforms.
We talked about money.
About how he and Farah handled conflict.
About the fear he had of disappointing people.
About George.
Theo admitted he still missed being able to call his father whenever something practical broke.
“So do I,” I said.
He looked around the kitchen.
“Dad would be furious about the cabin.”
“Yes.”
“He would’ve driven over before calling a lawyer.”
I laughed.
“He would’ve packed a toolbox too, although I’m not sure what he planned to fix with it.”
Theo smiled.
“He’d find something.”
When he left, he hugged me at the door.
A real hug.
“I am sorry,” he said.
I believed him.
That did not erase what happened.
But it mattered.
Over the next week, the Greenville family’s refund was completed.
Pat confirmed the unauthorized listing had been removed.
Buddy installed a new stainless-steel lockbox in a less obvious place, and this time only he and I had the code.
I also changed the cabin locks.
Not because I thought Theo was going to sneak back.
After what had happened, I wanted access to the property to be something I controlled rather than something I merely assumed.
I did not send Theo the new key.
He didn’t ask.
Farah called nine days after our dinner.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
Then I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
Her voice sounded careful.
“Hi, Farah.”
There was a pause.
“I wanted to talk about what happened.”
“All right.”
“I know you’re angry.”
“I was.”
“You aren’t now?”