“More what?”

“Money.”

“Why?”

“Because you never said no.”

There it was.

My part.

Silence can create entitlement too.

I had tried so hard to give without burdening Sarah with my limits that I convinced her I had none.

“You should have asked.”

“I know.”

“I also should have told you.”

She wiped her face.

“David said if we didn’t accept your help, you’d just find another way to involve yourself.”

I closed my eyes.

“That sounds like him.”

“But I agreed.”

I reopened them.

“Thank you for saying that.”

She seemed surprised.

“For admitting your part.”

We talked for nearly two hours.

No money exchanged.

No promises about bills.

No dramatic reconciliation.

Just two women trying to understand where mother ended and daughter began.

Before leaving, Sarah said, “Leo asks about you.”

My throat tightened.

“What does he ask?”

“Why Grandma doesn’t come anymore.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That adults were working something out.”

I nodded.

“Good.”

“He misses you.”

“I miss him.”

She looked at me.

“Would you like to see him next weekend?”

Every instinct in me screamed yes before she finished.

I forced myself to breathe.

“Only if there are no conditions attached.”

She looked hurt.

“There aren’t.”

“No money discussion before or after.”

“Okay.”

“No using Leo to pass messages between us.”

“Okay.”