“I raised seven kids while you were spending stolen cash on steak dinners,” I said.

“I gave you ten years of my life in this house, Daniel,” she said.

By six that evening, my sister Sarah stood at the kitchen counter pouring black coffee from a heavy pot into three ceramic mugs.

She set one mug in front of me, kept one for herself, and left the third on the wooden table where Vanessa sat.

Sarah always poured coffee for everybody when she was on edge, her hands moving quick and tidy.