Rachel continued.
“Honestly, I’m giving her something to do. She should be grateful.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
I looked at the shopping bags hanging from Rachel’s arms, then at Mom pressing one hand against her back.
Rachel mistook my silence for agreement.
“See? You know I’m right.”
An idea began forming.
“You know what? You are right.”
Rachel blinked.
Mom stared at me.
“Excuse me?” Rachel asked.
“Family should help family. Please come to my house tomorrow for dinner. Seven o’clock. Everyone will be there.”
Suspicion crossed her face.
“Why?”
“Because I think we should talk about sharing responsibilities fairly.”
She smirked.
“Finally, you’re learning.”
As she herded the children toward the door, she called back, “Make something the kids will eat.”
The door closed behind them.
Mom lowered her voice.
“What are you planning?”
I picked up the cereal bowl.
“Nothing cruel.”
“Kate.”
“I just want Rachel to understand consent.”
The following morning, I called my husband, Mark, before work.
He listened without interrupting, which told me his sister’s behavior didn’t surprise him.
“How often has she been doing this?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. Mom has a kitchen calendar. I’m checking tonight.”
