He looked down.
“Later, Mom. We’re really busy with the move right now.”
“Next week, Mom.”
“There’s no rush, Mom.”
“We’re family after all.”
“And then you stopped responding, and I stopped asking because a part of me—the wise part that survived forty-two years of marriage—knew I would need that protection.”
“Protection from me? Your own son?”
“From the situation,” I corrected. “From becoming what I became: a domestic servant in my own house.”
Daniel covered his face with his hands.
“I never wanted you to feel that way.”
“But I did feel that way every day for three years.”
“Emily… she can be harsh sometimes, but she’s not a bad person.”
“Daniel, do you know how much your mother invested in that house?”
He swallowed hard.
“The deeds say $136,800.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you know where that money came from?”
“From… from the sale of the house in the suburbs.”
