I didn’t look for a lawyer. I looked for a moving company and pulled up the details for a little lakeside condo I owned up in New Hampshire on Lake Winnipegasi.
I had bought it years ago as a retirement nest egg and had been renting it out.
As luck would have it, my tenant had moved out just last month.
It was time for a new chapter.
Wednesday felt perfectly normal on the surface.
Sloan was clearly riding high on her victory. She was ordering me around like I was the hired help.
“Elaine, since you’re living here, do you think you could handle the weekly grocery run today? Here’s the list. Please make sure everything for the kids is organic.”
She didn’t hand me a single dollar bill.
A year ago, I would have sighed, just waited for it all.
Today, I took the list without a word.
I went to the grocery store, but I only bought the bare essentials for myself: bread, butter, a little sharp cheddar, and a bag of my favorite ground coffee.
When I got back, the house was empty.
I used the quiet time to take stock of everything.
Over the past two years, I had quietly covered almost all the overhead: property taxes, homeowners insurance, heating oil.
Gavin had claimed he needed his paycheck for his crypto investments.
I sat down at my desk and called the insurance agency.
“Good afternoon. This is Elaine Baxter. I need to either transfer the homeowners and liability policies into my son’s name or cancel them entirely, as I am no longer the financial provider for the property.”
The agent was very efficient, since I had been the one paying the premiums for 30 years.
Canceling it by the end of the month was a breeze.
Next, I called the oil company.
We had a maintenance and delivery contract that autodrafted from my account. I canceled the direct debit right then and there.
It was late September in New England.
A bitter winter was just around the corner, and the oil tank was practically running on fumes.
Sloan wanted me to hand over $800 a month in rent. Fine.
That money would now go directly toward funding my own freedom instead of subsidizing her lifestyle.
I packed my most important documents into a small fireproof lockbox.
I didn’t feel like a victim fleeing her home.
I felt like a general strategically withdrawing her troops.
From down in the living room, I could hear Sloan laughing on the phone with her mother, bragging that the financial stuff with Elaine was totally handled.