"I found something in the report."
He nodded slowly.
"The earlier entries?"
"Yes."
He pulled up the records.
"I noticed them too."
"Do you know who used the code?"
"The log shows the credential, not necessarily the individual. We may be able to review relevant security records, subject to our privacy and retention policies."
"Can you tell me whether there were any visitor parking permits associated with those dates?"
He checked.
Two entries.
Both for the same vehicle.
A silver SUV.
Harper and Mark's vehicle.
I felt a familiar heaviness settle in my chest.
"Did they sign in?"
Dave scanned the system.
"The license plate was associated with the temporary guest account."
"And nobody contacted me?"
"The system treated it as an active authorization. That's part of why the code should have been deactivated after the maintenance appointment."
I nodded.
I wasn't interested in blaming Dave.
I had entrusted Mark with temporary access and failed to cancel it.
That was my mistake.
But using it without asking was his choice.
"Would you mind providing the records you can legally release to me?"
"Of course."
He hesitated.
"Mrs. Parker, there is something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
He turned the monitor slightly.
"Your unit was listed in an inquiry through the concierge desk about hosting guests."
"Hosting guests?"
"The inquiry asked whether the condo association permitted owners to lend their units to relatives for extended stays."
I frowned.
"Who made it?"
"The note indicates your son asked the question."
"When?"
"Three weeks ago."
Three weeks.
Not yesterday.
Not that morning.
Three weeks before Harper's supposedly unexpected family vacation.
I felt my cheeks grow warm.
The entire visit had been planned.
They had discussed bringing her parents to my condo.
They had checked the building's policies.
They had activated the vehicle access.
And they'd waited until I was already there to tell me to leave.
I thanked Dave and returned upstairs.
For several minutes, I sat on the sofa without moving.
I wasn't sure which feeling was strongest.
Anger.
Disappointment.
Or the slow, terrible realization that people I loved had been making decisions about my home behind my back.
I reached for my phone.
Then stopped.
I didn't want another shouting match.
I wanted the truth.
I called Mark.
He answered after several rings.
"Mom, what now?"
His tone told me he was still angry.
"Mark, I need to ask you something."
He sighed.
"Okay."
"Have you been using my condo when I'm not there?"
Silence.
Then, "What?"
"You heard me."
"I've checked on it a couple of times."
"Without telling me?"
"Mom, I have the code."
"Having a code doesn't mean you have permission to use it whenever you like."
"I thought you wanted me to keep an eye on the place."
"For a plumbing repair in February."
He said nothing.
I continued.
"Did Harper go there with you?"
"Sometimes."
"Did anyone else?"
Another pause.
"Why are you interrogating me?"
"Because I've discovered several visits I didn't know about."
His voice sharpened.
"Are you spying on us?"
"No. I'm reviewing the access records for my property."
"That's practically the same thing."
I closed my eyes.
"No, Mark. It isn't."
I heard a muffled conversation in the background.
Then Harper took the phone.
"Barbara, this is getting obsessive."
"Hello, Harper."
"You have a beautiful condo that sits empty most of the year. Why are you so determined to keep everyone from enjoying it?"
"Because I choose who enters it."
"You're acting like we stole something."
"You used my home without asking."
Her tone changed.
"Oh, please. Mark is your son. Why should he need a formal invitation?"
"Because adulthood doesn't eliminate the need for respect."
She gave a sharp laugh.
"You're being ridiculous."
I looked around my quiet living room.
The pale curtains moved gently in the breeze.
Thomas's photograph rested beside the lamp.
Everything in that room had been chosen with care.
And Harper was speaking as though my attachment to it was an unreasonable personal defect.
"Harper, did you plan your parents' visit before yesterday?"
Silence.
Then she said, "What difference does it make?"
"A great deal."
"They mentioned wanting a vacation."
"When?"
"Barbara, I don't keep records of every conversation."
"Did you know I would be here?"
"Of course. You come every year."
I waited.
Finally she snapped, "What are you trying to prove?"
"That you knew this was my vacation week and planned to use the condo anyway."
"Your condo has two bedrooms!"
"And neither was available for you to assign."
She hung up.
I set the phone down.
For the first time, I stopped wondering whether I had been too harsh.
I hadn't misunderstood.
They had deliberately planned around my schedule.
They expected my willingness to accommodate them to be more reliable than my right to enjoy my own home.
That afternoon, I called Susan Bell.
To my surprise, she had an opening for a brief video consultation.
Susan appeared on my laptop screen wearing reading glasses and a navy blazer.
"Barbara," she said warmly. "It's been too long."
I explained everything.
Not just the condo.
The financial gifts.
The unapproved visits.
Mark's recent suggestions that I simplify my affairs by giving him greater access.
Susan listened carefully.
Then asked a question.
"Have you signed anything giving Mark authority over your property or finances?"
"No."
"Has he ever asked you to?"
"He's mentioned that I should make things easier for the future."
"That's not necessarily inappropriate. Adult children often help their parents. But the arrangement needs to be your decision, based on clear information and actual need."
I nodded.
"I want to review my documents."
"Good. We can make sure your wishes are clearly recorded."
She paused.
"And Barbara?"
"Yes?"
"Don't make permanent decisions while you're hurt. Make informed decisions while you're calm."