Mallory waited.
Carla’s expression tightened.
“They said they had several things going on and would come when their schedule allowed.”
Mallory stared at her.
“When their schedule allowed?”
Carla looked like she hated repeating it.
“We made it clear that your condition was serious.”
Mallory’s parents lived forty minutes away.
Her sister lived twenty-five minutes away.
That was not distance.
That was a choice.
Over the years, her mother had called her crying over utility bills that were only late because she had bought new living-room curtains first.
Her father had asked for help with property taxes, car repairs, credit card minimums, and a refinance he did not want to understand.
Her sister had perfected the soft little voice that made Mallory feel cruel for asking basic questions before sending money.
Mallory had paid their phone bills.
She had rescued checking accounts.
She had left dinner with Ethan to drive over with a checkbook.
