But my credit union account needs that transfer to cover the house payment on Elm Street.”

“I’m not sending any more transfers,” I said.

Margaret paused and glanced around the entryway.

“Let’s go into the living room and sit down like reasonable adults.

We can talk about this without raising our voices.”

Margaret sat in the middle of the blue sofa, holding a porcelain teacup I had poured for her.

She took a small sip and balanced the saucer on her knee.

“You’ve always been my dependable daughter, Clara,” she said.