“Caleb sends money to his family. You married into this family. Don’t confuse the two.”
Then Kendra appeared in the recording.
She threw a bag of Naomi’s clothes onto the ground.
“Go sleep in the shed if you’re going to cough all night.”
I watched the video twice.
Then emailed it to the attorney.
That night, when I returned home, Mom was unusually cheerful.
She had cooked dinner.
Candles were on the table.
Kendra had dressed up.
Something was coming.
I was right.
After dessert, Mom placed a folder in front of me.
“I had something prepared for you.”
I opened it.
Power of attorney.
Financial authorization.
Account management permission.
All drafted by a lawyer I had never met.
I looked up.
Mom smiled warmly.
“With everything Naomi is going through, you shouldn’t be worrying about money. Let me keep handling the finances like I did while you were gone.”
Kendra nodded.
“You’ve got enough stress.”
I almost admired the arrogance.
Almost.
I closed the folder.
“So you want control of the new payment too?”
Mom reached across the table.
“Caleb, I’m your mother.”
There it was.
The sentence people use when they’ve run out of legitimate reasons to deserve your trust.
I leaned back.
“What did you buy with the first ninety thousand?”
The room went silent.
Kendra stopped chewing.
Mom’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
“The money I sent home.”
“I used it for the household.”
“Which household?”
