I flinched at her coldness. After Dad died of cancer last year, the lawyer revealed that my father left me 90 percent of everything, including our century-old family home. Mom and my brother Tyler each got $10,000. The memory of Mom’s face contorting with rage at the lawyer’s office still haunted me.
“I’m not moping… just remembering.”
She snorted and walked toward the kitchen. “Well, remember while dusting those shelves. You’re 20 and still don’t know how to keep a place clean. This house is a mess.”
I bit my tongue. For a whole year, I’d let Mom act like she still owned the place. It was easier than fighting… until everything changed one rainy May afternoon.
I heard the front door slam open and the unmistakable sound of multiple suitcases rolling across the hardwood floors my father had lovingly restored years ago.
“Hello? Anyone home?” my brother Tyler’s voice boomed through the house.
