The yellow note remained tucked inside it.
Move Margaret after New Year’s.
Renovate kitchen first.
Ask Kevin about equity loan.
I laid it on the counter.
Kevin went still.
Tiffany reached for it, but Mr.
Sloane moved the paper beyond her hand.
“Where did you get that?” she demanded.
“My guest room.”
“That was private.”
“It was inside my house beside an estimate for demolishing my kitchen wall.”
Kevin rubbed both hands over his face.
“Mom, it wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
“We were discussing possibilities.”
“Possibilities that involved moving me out of my home.”
“You said the yard was becoming difficult.”
“I said the sprinkler valve was leaking.”
“Tiffany found a beautiful place,” he continued.
“It has a pool, activities, transportation—”
“So does a cruise ship.
Were you planning to put me on one of those permanently?”
Tiffany crossed her arms.
“We were trying to protect you before the house became too much.”
“No.
You were planning to protect the house until you could take it.”
Her phone rang.
She ignored it.
It rang again, then began buzzing with incoming messages.
The screen lit up with CHRISTMAS AT MARGARET’S.
Her sister Vanessa was calling.
Tiffany declined the call.
A message appeared immediately afterward.
Why is Aunt Rosa saying Margaret sold the house?
Another followed.
What about the money everyone sent you?
I looked at Tiffany.
“What money?”
Kevin turned toward his wife.
“What is she talking about?”
“It was for groceries.”
“How much?”
Tiffany grabbed the phone, but I had already seen the next message.
You charged us $75 each.
That’s $1,350.
Did Margaret even know?
The kitchen became very quiet.
I had been expected to provide the house, cooking, cleaning, electricity, linens, and three days of labor.
Tiffany had collected the money.
Kevin’s expression changed.
For the first time that afternoon, his anger was not directed at me.
“You charged your family to eat here?”
“It was a contribution.
Food is expensive.”
