“Let’s be clear,” I said, my voice level. “I’m a director of marketing. I earn more than your son, and half the equity in this apartment is mine. I am not your servant.

So — new rules, right now. One: I cook dinner when I can, but breakfast and lunch are yours to make and clean up. Two: you clean your own messes and stay out of my bedroom.

Three: when I’m home, the television volume drops by half, and after ten at night, this apartment is silent.”

Shirley turned to Walter, her voice climbing to a shriek. “Do you hear this venom? Everett’s been gone one day and she treats us like stray dogs!”

Walter hauled himself up and pointed a finger at my face. “You have no shame. We’re your elders. This condo belongs to my son, and we’ll live in it however we please.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “The deed is joint, Walter. Ninety percent of the down payment came from my parents’ estate — Everett covers a fraction of the mortgage.