“They came from a law firm and were addressed to you personally.”
Mom sat down heavily at the dining table.
“Daniel,” she whispered, “you wouldn’t put your mother out.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
“Your life-interest agreement protects your right to remain here.”
Then I looked at Ethan.
“He doesn’t have that protection.”
Ethan stepped toward me.
“I’m your brother.”
“You were my brother when you called me a joy thief.”
“That was a joke.”
“You were my brother when Mom called me a freeloader.”
Mom lowered her eyes.
Ethan’s tone changed.
“Fine. I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
“That doesn’t change the finances.”
Melissa became emotional.
“We have children.”
“And you had four years to build savings while someone else covered much of your living expenses.”
Nobody answered.
Then my attorney opened another folder.
Over four years, I had contributed more than $120,000 toward household expenses, emergency mortgage payments, taxes, repairs, Ethan’s insurance, and Mom’s medical costs.
Ethan stared at the total.
“One hundred twenty thousand?”
“Approximately.”
“But you only sent twenty-five hundred a month.”
“Usually.”
“The emergency payments were separate,” my attorney added.
Mom covered her mouth.
For the first time, she seemed to understand.
The man she had called a freeloader had been keeping the house running.
Ethan sank into a chair.
