My daughter filled three shopping carts, and when the cashier announced the total was 980 dollars, she ordered me in front of everyone, “Pay. It’s the least you can do for living with us.” I closed my wallet, said “No,” and walked away without arguing. She still didn’t know that later that night, I would stop paying for something far more important than groceries.

Any remaining services would now have to be fully assumed and paid for by the actual homeowners if they wanted to keep their lights on.

As we walked out of the final office, Clara gave me a broad grin.

“Now those two are finally going to realize just how expensive it was to replace you.”

My phone started ringing frantically in my purse, displaying Clinton’s caller ID, but I ignored it completely.

Later that afternoon, a sleek black SUV slammed its brakes violently right in front of Clara’s front gate.

Stephanie jumped out of the passenger side in tears, with Clinton marching angrily right behind her.