“Of course I care.”
“You care that if she sells the house, the house won’t be there later.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
The big family home had always been treated as something permanent. Dad’s house. Mom’s house. The place where holidays happened.
And, in Ryan’s mind, something that would eventually stay in the family.
Probably with him.
“That’s ridiculous,” he said.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because Mom is seventy.”
“She’s sixty-eight.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t.”
He pushed his chair back and paced toward the window.
“This family has always taken care of each other.”
I nearly laughed.
Instead, I opened my laptop.
“You want to talk about taking care of each other?”
“Emily—”
“Sit down.”
Maybe it was my tone.
Maybe it was the fact that we were in my office, a place where he could not simply raise his voice until everyone else surrendered.
Whatever the reason, he sat.
I turned the laptop around.
The spreadsheet was still open.
He looked at the first page.
“What is this?”
“What I paid for Mom during the last twelve months.”
His eyes went to the bottom line.
Then back up.
“That can’t be right.”
“It is.”
“Thirty-one thousand dollars?”
“Thirty-one thousand eight hundred forty-two.”
He pulled the laptop closer.
Mortgage.
Insurance.
Phone.
Utilities.
Medical coverage.
Car expenses.
Maintenance.
Subscriptions.
He scrolled.
Then I opened the previous year.
$38,109.
Another sheet.
$44,770.
He stopped moving the trackpad.
“What happened that year?”
“Her roof.”
His mouth tightened.
“I thought insurance covered it.”
“It covered part of it.”
“You never told me it was that much.”
“I told you she needed help.”
“I remember.”
“You said money was tight.”
“It was.”
“You bought a boat three months later.”
His head snapped up.
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this.”
“The boat wasn’t—”
“I don’t care about the boat, Ryan.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Because every time Mom needed something, your money had somewhere else to go.”
He pushed the laptop away.
“Fine. You helped her. A lot. Nobody is denying that.”
“Mom did.”
“What?”
“She told me I don’t put family first.”
“She was emotional.”
“Interesting how her emotions always create obligations for everyone else.”
He stood again.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“It got me somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Out.”
He stared at me.
I closed the laptop.
“I’m done being the family account.”
“That’s not what you are.”
“Then there shouldn’t be a crisis when I stop paying.”
His jaw tightened.
For the first time since walking into my office, Ryan seemed to understand that there was no speech he could give that would restore the automatic transfers.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“An apology?”
“I don’t want an apology Mom gives because the mortgage is due.”
“So you’re just cutting her off.”
“I am no longer paying her recurring expenses.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“How is it different?”
“She has income. She has a house with substantial equity. She owns a car. She has retirement benefits. She has two adult children.”
He frowned.
“Don’t bring me into this.”
There it was.
I leaned forward.
“Why not?”
“Because this was your arrangement with her.”
“No. This was the arrangement everyone allowed because it was convenient.”