My mother-in-law overheard we were moving into a luxurious new house and decided to move in that same day. She sold her house and came to visit us, unaware of our plans. Then she called me in a panic, crying: “Where’s the entrance? Where are you?” I couldn’t help but laugh, because it was exactly the moment we’d been waiting for.

The morning her house went under sale, she rented a van, loaded up her furniture, and headed to the address she’d finally gotten from Marcus’s cousin, who only knew the property for investment purposes.

An hour later, my phone rang.

“Claire!” Diane snapped. “I’m here, there’s a security gate, no access code, no movers, no sign of you. Where’s the entrance to the house? Where are you?”

I looked at Marcus. He smiled slowly, calmly.

And it was just the moment we were waiting for.

I put the phone on speaker.

Diane was breathing heavily, as she did when panic and anger fused. In the background, I could hear a truck idling, a horn honking, and someone asking if they needed to unload. She probably expected us to rush out, apologizing for not being ready. Instead, she was met with a silence long enough to make her uncomfortable.

“Claire?” he repeated, his tone more decisive. “Answer me. There’s no one here. It says ‘restricted access’ on the gate. Why is there a ‘For Rent’ sign?”

That sentence almost made me laugh again, but Marcus squeezed my hand before answering.

“Because, Mom, that property is not our residence.”

The pause that followed was complete. I could hear the wind through his phone.

“What are you talking about?” he finally asked.

“It’s an investment property,” he said. “We bought it with the intention of renting it out. We never said you’d live there.”