I almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because she always did this. When we were kids, if I earned a scholarship, she said I was lucky. If I worked three jobs in college, she said I liked acting poor. If I built a company, she said I had forgotten family.
Now she was standing in the home I bought for our parents, pretending injustice had happened to her.
Craig pointed toward my father again.
“George already agreed they’d move into the guest cottage out back. Then eventually assisted living. We’re just making practical decisions.”
My mother looked up sharply. “We never agreed.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Mom, you were confused.”
That did it.
I walked past Craig into the living room. My nephews, Tyler and Mason, sat frozen on the sectional, surrounded by game controllers, soda cans, and pizza boxes. On the mantel, where Mom had placed her anniversary photo with Dad, someone had shoved the frame aside to make room for a Bluetooth speaker.
I took out my phone and called the local police.
Craig’s face changed.
“Who are you calling?”
“The police.”
“For what?” Vanessa demanded.
“For trespassing, elder intimidation, and whatever else they decide after seeing Mom’s wrist.”
Craig stepped toward me. “You don’t want to do that.”
I looked him in the eye. “Take one more step.”
He stopped.
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