“I brought this.”
I did not open it.
She sat down.
“Glenn needs you to come home.”
“For what?”
“The village is asking questions.”
“They should.”
“His next client event is coming up, and the loan deadline is close.”
“Who signed my name?”
Mom smoothed the ribbon on the gift bag.
“Glenn handles paperwork so you don’t have to.”
“That wasn’t my drawing.”
“To him, it was probably a formality.”
I stared at her.
“You think signing my name is a formality?”
She exhaled.
“Kelsey always needed more attention than you.”
The sentence was so unrelated that for a moment I thought I had missed something.
“What?”
“She needed the spotlight. You never did.”
“Mom, we’re talking about my professional seal.”
“I’m talking about the way you keep treating everything like proof that we favor her.”
“You forgot my birthday and made me serve dinner in a room I designed.”
“You’ve never cared about birthdays.”
“How would you know?”
She looked away.
“I know my daughters.”
“No. You know the roles you gave us.”
I told her I would come Thursday to collect the rest of my things.
Bethany came with me.
Glenn was waiting in the kitchen.
“What is this about now?”
“My seal.”
He laughed.
“That stamp?”
“Yes.”
“You architects are unbelievable. You draw a picture and suddenly you think you built the house.”
Bethany said nothing.
She didn’t need to.
I started searching.
I checked the study.
The basement.
Then I opened the kitchen junk drawer.
My brass embosser was lying between batteries and a takeout menu.
Beside it sat a dried red ink pad.
On the menu was a test impression of my seal.
Nobody spoke.
Bethany took out her phone and photographed the drawer exactly as we found it.
I picked up the embosser.
Glenn watched me.
“You have any idea what you’re doing to your mother?”
For months, I had wanted an explanation from him.
That was what I got.
A lecture about Mom.
Kelsey came down the stairs.
She was furious.
“Two sponsors paused campaigns with me.”
I looked at her.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“The livestream.”
“You livestreamed my bedroom.”
“You left that letter knowing somebody would find it.”
“I left it in my own room.”
“You embarrassed me.”
“You brought forty thousand people downstairs to read it.”
She folded her arms.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you’re morally above everyone.”
I noticed a printed invoice beside Glenn’s office printer.
I had seen it before.