This time I waited.
“Things are tight with the house,” he said.
“Then you need to know what your life costs.”
A floorboard sounded behind him.
Brooke stood in the doorway in slippers, her hair gathered loosely at the back of her head. She looked at Julian, then at the statements.
“What’s going on?”
“Mom went through the bills,” he said.
She stepped closer and picked up my list.
I let her read it. The refrigerator hummed behind us. Her gaze moved quickly until it reached the total, then returned to the top.
“You made an invoice?”
“No. Those were gifts. I’m showing you which gifts are ending.”
She laid the paper down with the tips of two fingers.
“Because I asked you to watch your grandchildren?”
“Because you told me to. Then you insulted me when I refused.”
“We were exhausted.”
“You were also very clear.”
Julian shifted his chair back an inch.
“Maybe we should all just—”
I turned toward him.
“Finish that sentence.”
He shut his mouth.
Brooke looked between us, irritated now by his hesitation.
“You can afford it,” she said. “We’re trying to buy a family home.”
I felt my fingers curl against my palm beneath the table.
For years, I had answered that argument before anyone made it. I had enough. They were young. The children needed things. Richard would have wanted me to help.
It was easier to count my money than admit how much their approval had begun to cost.
“My finances aren’t permission,” I said.
Brooke pulled out the other chair, but remained standing behind it.
“Julian told me this was handled.”
Something changed in his face.
It was small—a tightening around his eyes—but I saw it before he looked away.
“What was handled?” I asked.
“The help,” she said. “While we got through the move.”
Julian spoke too quickly.
“I said we’d figure things out.”
“You said your mother would be glad to have us.”
“I was glad to see the children,” I said. “That doesn’t mean you can make arrangements for me.”
Brooke folded her arms.
“You told me she wanted to help with mornings.”
Julian stared at the list.
