“Is telling the woman who owns the house where she can put her own flowers how you treat a host?”
Her mouth tightened.
“She didn’t mean anything.”
“You moved all six flower boxes behind the trash cans.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Then put them back.”
Mom went quiet.
She looked through the kitchen window toward the deck.
The flowers were still hidden beside the grill.
I knew that expression.
She wasn’t thinking about the flowers.
She was calculating discomfort.
What would Susan think?
Would Susan complain?
Would Daniel be upset?
Would my marriage become awkward?
Would everyone think Mom had caused trouble over flowers?
She had spent her whole life doing that math.
“I’m not letting you start a fight with your mother-in-law because of me.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
I looked at her.
“I’m ending something.”
She reached toward the eraser.
I picked up the entire board.
“One day, Mom. Please. Just try one day where everyone takes care of themselves and you don’t take care of anyone.”
“But I like taking care of people.”
“I know.”
I softened my voice.
“But liking to care for people is different from being treated like everyone’s maid.”
