Vanessa’s hand shot out and gripped his arm. Her nails were painted burgundy. I remembered those nails tapping impatiently on the table at Christmas while I served dinner. She had asked for organic turkey. I had cooked organic turkey. She said it was dry.
“Your mother is a grown woman,” Vanessa said. “She’ll figure it out. We’ve been more than generous letting her stay this long after the funeral.”
Five days, she called generous. Five days.
Linda stood up. “Margaret, you’ve always been so independent. I’m sure you have a plan.”
Her smile was tight. Fake. We had not been close since 1987, when I married Daniel and she married a car salesman who left her three years later. She had been bitter ever since.
“I’ll need a few hours to pack,” I said.
“Of course,” Vanessa said brightly. “Take your time. We’ll be out until six. Robert has a meeting with the estate planner.”
They left. I heard the front door close, then the electronic beep of the car unlocking. Robert’s Audi was leased for six hundred eighty dollars a month. I knew because he had asked to borrow two thousand dollars the previous November when he came up short. I gave it to him from my savings. He never paid me back.
