“I’ll stay here and let her think I left quietly,” I said.
“While we figure out what Chloe’s really doing. Nana’s retired, but she’s not out of the game.”
A day into our “detective work,” something caught our eye.
Pat’s window looks right at my house. She gasped and pointed. “There’s your gardener.”
“Brad?” I leaned closer.
“He’s early. He usually comes on Saturdays.”
“It’s Thursday,” Pat said, eyes narrowing. “Maybe he switched days?”
“Or maybe he’s got two jobs.
One for the yard, one for… something else.”
It hit me like a heavy weight. Saturdays, Lach is home. Other days, Chloe always sent me off with the kids, saying it was to give me a break.
Pat rummaged through her closet.
Twenty minutes later, I was in her yard wearing a baggy hoodie, huge sunglasses, a baseball cap, and her late husband’s fishing vest. Pat adjusted my hood. “You look like a lost tourist.”
“And you?” I asked.
She pulled on a wide straw hat with a beekeeping net. “Secret royalty.”
We crouched behind her bushes, clutching iced tea like it was mission gear. Brad was trimming the porch plants.
Then he walked up and let himself in the front door. Chloe opened it in a crop top and leggings, hair styled like she was ready for a photoshoot. Pat nudged me.
Brad stepped inside. No words. Just easy, familiar steps.
I ran to the guest room and dug through my suitcase.
“Juniper gave me this for my birthday. Called it ‘cool tech.’ I thought it was a cup.”
Pat opened the box like it was Christmas morning. “Oh, honey!
It’s a pet camera. With sound.”
“I never used it. Didn’t know what it was for.”
“Well, now we do.”
We strapped it around Mr.
Whiskers’ neck, Pat’s grumpy tuxedo cat, and opened the side gate. “Be sneaky,” I whispered. Pat rolled her eyes.
“He’s a cat, Estel. Sneaky’s his whole personality.”
We eased open the window and let him slip inside. On Pat’s laptop, we watched the feed: hallway… kitchen… voices.
Chloe’s voice. “Oh, Brad… Lach’s still in Oregon. And I finally got Estel out.
So glad we can spend more time together now.”
Giggles followed. Then sounds—clear, unmistakable sounds. Pat choked on her tea.
We saved the video. Then set up a projector, a white sheet, and a perfectly timed moment. Friday night.
Lach’s flight landed at 6:10. Chloe was outside “watering” her fake flowers. The kids were still at chess club.
At 7:01 PM, Lach’s car pulled into the driveway. I met him at the edge of the lawn. “Ma?” he said, surprised.
“I thought…”
“I need to show you something, son.”
He followed me to the backyard. Pat started the projector. On the sheet, there was Chloe in my kitchen, arms around Brad, voice loud and breathy:
“Let’s make it quick.
Lach’s not back till tomorrow.”
Lach flinched like he’d been struck. He stepped back, eyes fixed on the screen. His voice was hollow.
“That’s… that’s my kitchen…”
Chloe came around the corner and froze when she saw the screen. Lach turned to me. “Why show it like this?
In the yard?”
“Because your wife put my bags outside and locked the door. Told me to stay gone or lose the kids. Said you thought it was my idea.”
I handed him the note from my suitcase.
He read it twice. His hands trembled. He looked from me to Chloe.
His jaw tightened. “Go inside. Pack your things.
Now.”
No shouting. No scene. Just quiet, firm truth.
She stood there a moment, then turned and walked inside. Lach let out a heavy breath and sank onto the garden wall, like his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. He dropped his head into his hands.
I waited, then sat beside him. “Son, I’m sorry you had to see it that way.”
“No, Ma. I felt something was off for a while.
But I kept… looking away. Because I didn’t want to know.” He exhaled, voice raw. “She pushed you out.
And I let her. That’s on me.”
I rested a hand on his arm. “We both trusted someone who let us down.”
He looked at me, eyes shining.
For a moment, he was my little boy again, the one who brought me dandelions in his tiny fists. “I’m glad you didn’t just leave, Ma.”
“I may be old, but I still know how to stand up for my family.”
Pat poked her head out the back door. “Alright.
I’m grabbing the kids from chess club. They’re staying with me tonight. I’m making pie.
Pie helps.”
Lach gave a small smile. “You sure, Pat?”
“Pie soothes the soul. And you’ve got things to sort out here.”
She headed to her car, humming softly.
I stood, stretched, and looked at my house. The porch light was on again. It was mine once more.
Because Nana might be retired… but she’s nowhere near done.
