“Don’t,” I said. My voice was very quiet, but it stopped him instantly.

Sarah started to cry, reaching across the table. “Mom, please. We didn’t know he was going to do that to us. We thought… we thought we would be taken care of. He said Misty’s house would be ours too.”

I looked at my children. Really looked at them. I did not see the babies I had raised. I saw two strangers who had sold their mother out for a new truck and some paid-off credit cards. They had played the game, and they had lost.

I stood up. I put the silver pocket watch back in my pocket.

“I am selling the house next week,” I said. “The trust owns it, so I don’t need your permission. You have until Sunday to get your things out. After that, the locks are being changed.”

“Mom, where are we supposed to go?” David asked, his voice cracking. “I have car payments. My rent is…”

“You should ask Misty,” I said. “I hear she has a very nice Sunday dinner.”

I walked out of that office and didn’t look back.

That was six months ago. I sold the split-level to a nice young couple who wanted to plant tomatoes in the backyard. I moved to a small, bright apartment near the lake in Toledo. It has big windows that let in the morning light.

I bought a golden retriever puppy. I named him Barnaby. He is terrible at walking on a leash and he chewed up one of my slippers yesterday, but he sleeps at the foot of my bed every night.

David tried to call me last week. I saw his name on the screen. I let it ring. I don’t know if I will ever answer. Maybe someday, but not today.

Richard’s silver pocket watch is sitting on my kitchen counter. I don’t wind it anymore. The hands are stopped at exactly 4:12. I keep it there just to remind myself that some times are better left in the past.

I am sixty-two years old, and for the first time in my life, I am not packing anyone’s lunchbox but my own. It is a very quiet life. And honestly, that is the best part.