“She’s a wonderful young woman, Roy. She’s helped me when nobody else had time.”
I spoke gently.
“Margaret, has she asked you for money? Or have you given her any?”
She raised her chin.
“And what if I have? I promised to help with her baby. At least she doesn’t make me feel like a burden.”
“Mom,” Roy said gently, “maybe we find someone else to help. A professional.”
Her demeanor changed immediately.
Her shoulders slumped, and her voice became thin and fragile.
She complained about growing older, spending lonely evenings at home, and struggling to manage the stairs.
For a moment, I nearly felt sorry for her.
Then she looked directly at me, and I understood where the conversation was heading.
“Well, if Tessa isn’t welcome here anymore, I suppose I’ll have to come live with you.”
A chill ran through me.
“Unless,” she added, “you’d rather put your own mother in one of those homes.”
