That was basically our house.
I joked because if I didn’t, I was afraid I’d cry.
So when Rachel moved in after Craig drained their savings and disappeared, I was grateful.
He was proud of doing things on his own.
“You worry about getting better,” Rachel told me. “I’ll handle Mom.”
“You sure?”
“Dana, please. She lives three houses away.”
“She’s seventy-nine, has arthritis and thinks asking for help violates the Constitution.”
Rachel laughed. “I can manage Mom.”
I’ll handle Mom.