My father pushed himself off the truck, brushing imaginary dust from his hands with the unhurried confidence of a man making an obvious point.
“You don’t need to invite us,” he said. “We helped with the down payment, remember? That makes this shared.”
“You gave me a thousand dollars. The house cost four hundred thousand.”
“Money is money,” my mother snapped. “Don’t be petty. Family doesn’t nickel and dime each other.”
Owen came running toward me then, sandy hair flying, eyes bright with excitement.
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