The night I brought my newborn daughter h0me, my mother was waiting in my driveway beside a moving truck. “Perfect timing,” she smiled. “We’re moving in tonight.”

I’d been awake nearly thirty hours. My husband, Evan, held our daughter, Lily, against his chest while I eased out of the car, still sore from an emergency C-section.

“Mom?” I stared at the truck. “What is this?”

She clapped once. “Perfect timing. We’re moving in tonight.”

Behind her were my stepfather, Dale, my younger half-sister Brittany, Brittany’s unemployed boyfriend, and their two boys. Boxes were already piled beside my garage.

I laughed because the alternative was screaming.

“No.”

My mother’s smile tightened. “Don’t be dramatic, Claire. You have four bedrooms. Family helps family.”

“Then help me by getting off my property.”