“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire sometimes spends holidays with his family.”
I almost laughed.
Daniel shook his head.
“I think I’ve been making excuses for Mom for a long time.”
“Because your father died?”
“Partly.”
Daniel’s father, Richard, had died from a heart attack four years earlier.
Margaret had always been difficult, but after Richard’s death, every preference became sacred because Richard had supposedly wanted it that way.
Furniture couldn’t be moved because Richard had placed it there.
The dining room had to stay blue because Richard liked blue.
Christmas had to happen at the house because Richard always hosted Christmas.
Daniel treated every demand as grief.
Eventually, so did I.
But grief had slowly become authority.
“I understand why you felt responsible for her,” I said.
Daniel nodded.
“But understanding it doesn’t mean I’m willing to live under it.”
“I know.”
I gave him a look.
“Sorry.”
That almost made me smile.
He took a breath.
“I told Mom she can visit when invited. She has to call first. And if she insults you again, she leaves.”
Those were almost my exact words.
“What did she say?”
“That you’ve poisoned me against her.”
“And what did you say?”
“That I’m thirty-four and capable of disappointing her without assistance.”
I laughed.
Daniel smiled for the first time.
Then he became serious again.
“I want you to come home.”
I studied him.
“I’m not sure changing the locks fixes everything.”
“I know it doesn’t.”
“At dinner, you let her humiliate me.”
