I looked at the woman who had put my mother in an apron, and twenty hours of flying finally condensed into something hard.

“No, Melissa. This is a house I own, where my mother has a legal right to live. You’ve been guests. Guests who put the rightful occupant on her knees scrubbing your patio for a dinner party.”

June Aldrich stood up, walked around the table, and planted herself shoulder to shoulder with my mother. A second later the two church ladies joined her.

Melissa’s voice cracked into a shriek about ingratitude, about holding this family together while I abandoned it. Sandra started in about how in her day families didn’t betray each other.

I took the laminated chore chart out of the folder and set it down in front of Sandra. “In your day, did houseguests assign the homeowner Tuesday bathroom duty?”

Sandra’s mouth shut.