And in all that time, not one of the four of you could manage to call her once a month.”

My brother-in-law shoved back his chair and stood, his face going dark red.

“She was our mother!

You have no right — that’s our inheritance you’re talking about!”

I looked at him, and I felt the full weight of twelve years standing behind me, steadying my voice.

“She wasn’t an inheritance to you,” I said quietly.

“She was an inconvenience.

That’s all she ever was to any of you — a problem to be visited for ten minutes and praised your way out of.