I had laid copies of the ledger, the statements, and the demand letter on my dining table.

When the bell rang I opened the door — and did not step aside.

“We’ll talk inside, Danae,” my father said, moving to come past me.

“We can talk on the porch.”

“Danae, we are your parents,” my mother said.

“Which is exactly why you don’t walk into my house without my permission.”

Chapter 13 — This Was Never About Dinner

“This absurd demand letter has to stop,” my father said, jaw tight.

“You are blowing up this whole family over a dinner menu.”

“This was never about dinner.”