“Sarah, please…” Eleanor reached out a trembling hand.

“I’m taking my children home, Mom. I’ll pay for the broken glass.”

I didn’t look back as I gathered Leo and Mia and walked to my car. The Fourth of July was over.

The war had just begun.

For the next four weeks my phone rang constantly. Texts, voicemails, tearful apologies from Chloe, long rambling messages from my mother. I ignored all of it.

I canceled the automatic transfers that paid my mother’s utility bills. I stopped covering the “temporary” gap in Chloe and Greg’s mortgage. I severed the financial umbilical cord I had foolishly maintained for years.