My stomach dropped.
I had forwarded most of my mail, but one envelope from the title company had gone to my old place, where my mother still had a spare key because I had been foolish enough to trust her with emergencies.
My mother, Elaine, turned from the cabinets with bright, offended excitement. “So this is where all your money has been going. You bought a whole house and didn’t tell your own family?”
“I didn’t tell you because this is my home,” I said. “Not a family project.”
My father, Ron, frowned. “Don’t talk to your mother like that. We’re just surprised.”
Brooke laughed and walked toward the stairs. “Surprised? I’m relieved. This house is worth living in.”
I stared at her. “What does that mean?”
She turned back, completely serious. “My lease ends next month, but honestly, I’ll just move in this weekend. The upstairs bedroom with the big window is perfect for me, and Mom says the smaller room could be her sewing space.”
The silence after that sentence was so sharp it felt like the house itself was holding its breath.
“You’re not moving in,” I said.
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Jenna. You have three bedrooms and no husband, no kids, no reason to hoard all this space.”
My mother stepped in with the old familiar softness that always hid a demand. “Honey, family helps family. Brooke is struggling, and your father and I could stay sometimes too, especially when your dad’s back acts up.”
I looked at my father, waiting for him to correct them.
He only shrugged. “It makes sense. You’re alone anyway.”
