‘You took pictures of her bedroom.’
‘Because this house needs updating.’
‘You gave your mother a key.’
‘Because she’s family.’
‘You invited twenty-five people for a week.’
‘Because I wanted one Christmas where my family didn’t feel like outsiders.’
The last sentence was delivered with trembling lips, but it did not erase what she had done.
I returned to the table and opened the folder again.
‘There is more,’ I said.
Emily’s eyes snapped toward me.
‘You went through private messages.’
‘You left your account open on the family tablet in my kitchen.
The notifications appeared while I was using it to look up a recipe.
My address, my bedroom, and my future were being discussed.
Privacy stopped being your strongest argument.’
I handed Daniel another page.
It was a spreadsheet titled HOLIDAY LOGISTICS.
Emily had listed every guest, arrival time, sleeping location, dietary preference, and transportation plan.
Next to my name, she had written: cooking, laundry, breakfast service, child supervision, airport pickup, and cleanup.
Daniel looked from the sheet to his wife.
‘Child supervision?’
‘Only for a few hours,’ Emily said.
‘Airport pickup?’
‘Aunt Melissa doesn’t rent cars.’
‘Laundry?’
‘There are children coming.’
I pointed to the bottom of the spreadsheet.
‘Read the note.’
He did.
‘Dorothy may complain at first.
Daniel will calm her down.’
My son’s shoulders sagged.
That sentence hurt him in a way I had not expected.
Emily had not merely counted on my labor.
She had counted on his habit of silencing my objections.
‘I’m sorry, Mom,’ he said.
Emily scoffed.
‘You’re apologizing to her? She is leaving us with a disaster days before Christmas.’
‘You created the disaster,’ he replied.
Patricia stepped between them.
‘Everyone needs to calm down.
We can still make this work.’
‘Of course you think so,’ I said.
‘You were assigned my bedroom.’
She stiffened.
‘I have a bad back.’
‘Then a hotel mattress may be more suitable.’
Robert cleared his throat.
Until then, he had remained near the hallway, visibly wishing he were anywhere else.
‘Patricia, maybe we should book a room.’
She turned on him.
‘At Christmas? When there are five empty bedrooms here?’
‘There are two guest rooms,’ I corrected.
‘The others are my sewing room, my late husband’s study, and a storage room.
None are available.’
