My sister had always liked being in control. She made lists, solved problems and rarely asked for help.
So I believed her.
One day mom, sitting at my table, said, “Nobody manages me.”
Rachel kissed her cheek. “See? Easy.”
But then one afternoon Noah appeared beside my bed. “Mom?”
My sister had always liked being in control.
“Unless the house is burning, Dana is currently in overtime.”
“Why does Grandma have to pay Aunt Rachel?”
I opened my eyes. “Pay her for what?”
“For helping.”
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