“Make this Laura’s fault.”
I watched him carefully.
This was new.
Diane did too.
Her expression changed.
“You have always allowed her to speak to me disrespectfully.”
Ethan stared.
“When?”
“Oh, please.”
“No. Give me an example.”
Diane opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
He continued.
“She asked you to stop using her things.”
“You invited me—”
“I invited you to stay here.”
“Yes.”
“I did not invite you to move Laura’s belongings out of our bedroom.”
“You said she wouldn’t mind.”
“I was wrong.”
“You said—”
“I was wrong, Mom.”
His voice grew louder.
“I was wrong.”
The words filled the kitchen.
Diane went silent.
Ethan stood.
“I was wrong to invite you without telling Laura.”
His hands shook.
“I was wrong to tell you she agreed.”
Diane stared.
“I was wrong to let you take the bedroom.”
“Ethan.”
“I was wrong to let you make rules.”
Her face flushed.
“I was trying to help.”
“You were charging my wife nine hundred dollars to live in her house.”
“That was for expenses.”
“What expenses?”
“Food. Utilities.”
“She already pays the mortgage.”
Diane’s eyes flicked toward me.
I said nothing.
Ethan continued.
“And she pays insurance.”
Diane crossed her arms.
“Then perhaps you should pay more.”
The sentence escaped her before she could stop it.
Ethan froze.
I watched his face change.
“How much did I give you last month?”
Diane looked away.
“Ethan.”
“How much?”
“That’s private.”
“Between who?”
“You and me.”
“I gave you twelve hundred dollars.”
My head snapped toward him.
“What?”
Ethan looked at me.
“I thought it was for groceries.”
Diane’s face went pale.
“Mom?”
She tightened her lips.
“You said prices had gone up.”
“They have.”
“Twelve hundred dollars?”
“There were four people here.”
“Laura wasn’t here!”
Diane’s eyes flashed.
“But she would be.”
My stomach dropped.
Ethan stared at her.
“Wait.”
Diane immediately looked defensive.
“What?”
“You knew she was coming home this week.”
“Obviously.”
“You asked me for twelve hundred dollars because Laura was coming home?”
“I knew expenses would increase.”
I stared at the woman.
The nine hundred dollar contribution.
Ethan’s twelve hundred.
My mother-in-law had been preparing to collect money from both of us.
“Where’s the money?” Ethan asked.
Diane stiffened.
“I don’t have to account for every grocery receipt.”
“Where is it?”
“I bought household items.”
“Like what?”
She gestured around.
I followed her hand.
The ceramic canisters.
Flowered cushions.
A new kitchen runner.
The rooster Megan had just taken.
Curtains.
Bathroom towels.
Decorations.
She had used Ethan’s money to redecorate my house.
Then planned to charge me for living in it.
I almost admired the audacity.
Almost.
Ethan looked around slowly.
“You bought all this?”
Diane lifted her chin.
“The place needed warmth.”
“It had warmth.”
“You were miserable.”
“I was lonely.”
“Exactly.”
“That didn’t mean you could turn the house into yours.”
“I was trying to make it comfortable.”
“For you.”
“For everyone.”
I stepped forward.
“No.”
Diane looked at me.
“It was for you.”
She actually said it.
“For me?”
“When you came home.”
I looked around.
“At what point did you think I would return from deployment and say, ‘Thank God, somebody replaced my photographs with poultry’?”
Ethan coughed.
A laugh escaped him.
He immediately covered it.
Diane looked furious.
“You think this is funny?”
“No,” I said.
Then, after a beat:
“The rooster was.”
Ethan looked away.
His shoulders shook.
For some reason, that small moment of absurdity cut through months of tension.
Diane did not appreciate it.
“You two deserve each other.”
The laughter stopped.
She grabbed her purse.
“I will leave.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
“But not because you intimidated me.”
“I don’t care why.”
“I have rights.”
