I could hear it happen.
“Evelyn, this has gotten out of hand.”
His voice was suddenly calm.
Professional.
The voice he used when he wanted to sound reasonable while everyone else looked unstable.
“Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you.”
“No.”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m clear.”
“You have nowhere to go.”
That sentence should have frightened me.
Instead, it made me angry.
“You mean because I sold my home for your benefit?”
“You sold your home because living alone was unsafe.”
“I gave you two hundred sixty-eight thousand dollars.”
“It was a family contribution.”
“A contribution for my housing.”
“You’ve lived with us rent-free for four years.”
I stared out at the darkening sky.
Then I said, “If you want to call it rent, Grant, I believe I’ve paid well in advance.”
