“Keeping a family together takes sacrifice,” Evelyn said.

“If you start making demands now, you’ll rip this whole family apart.”

She reached for the dish towel lying on the island counter next to her open leather purse.

“Where’s my tax mail from July?” I asked.

Evelyn went still for a second, her hands resting on the edge of her open handbag.

“Your father took care of all the house mail while you were overseas,” she said, her cheerful tone sliding right past the question.

“He’s been opening my personal mail?” I asked.