Maybe two seconds.

But enough.

“Oh. Honey, she told you?”

“She lives with me.”

“It was just an awkward situation. We had too many people.”

“Who came unexpectedly?”

Another pause.

“I don’t remember. It was hectic.”

“How many people were there?”

“Kate, I’m not doing an interrogation on Christmas Day.”

“I’m asking how many people were at dinner.”

Her voice changed.

Not angry.

Irritated.

“There simply wasn’t room at the table.”

I looked at the photograph on my laptop.

“Okay.”

That seemed to confuse her.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not upset?”

“I’m going to deal with it.”

“Deal with what?”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

I ended the call.

Abby looked up from her puzzle.

“Was Grandma mad?”

“A little.”

“Are you mad?”

I closed the laptop.

“I’m working on it.”

The First Bill I Didn’t Pay

Four days later, Dad texted me a photograph of an estimate for a garage-door repair.

$683.

Normally, I would have paid it before dinner.

Instead, I wrote:

You’ll need to arrange that yourselves.

He called immediately.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“You always handle house repairs.”

“Not anymore.”

“Kate, it’s your house.”

“Exactly.”

He went quiet.

“Is this about Christmas?”

“Partly.”

“Your mother handled that badly.”

“You were there.”

“I didn’t want to start a fight.”

“With who?”

He didn’t answer.

That was the first moment I knew my suspicion wasn’t ridiculous.

“Dad, was there actually no chair?”

“Kate.”

“Was there no chair?”

“Talk to your mother.”

“I’m talking to you.”

He exhaled.

“I don’t want to get in the middle.”

I looked at the repair estimate on my phone.

For years, everybody had been comfortable putting me in the middle whenever something cost money.

Apparently Christmas dinner was different.

“Then don’t.”

I deleted the estimate.

That was the first bill I didn’t pay.

It was also the first time anyone in my family seemed to understand that something had changed.

The Folder on Their Kitchen Table

Two weeks after Christmas, I drove to my parents’ house carrying a plain blue folder.

Mom opened the door.

“Finally.”

She stepped aside.

“Your father said you’ve been acting strange.”

Dad was at the kitchen table. Janelle was there too, which I hadn’t expected.

The table was the same oak table we’d used for birthdays, Thanksgivings, graduations, and every Christmas since I’d bought the house.

I noticed Abby’s usual chair immediately.

It was pushed neatly beneath the table.

I sat across from my parents and put the blue folder down.

Janelle folded her arms.

“Are we seriously having a family meeting over Christmas dinner?”

I looked at her.

“Why are you here?”

“Mom asked me to come.”

Mom sat beside her.

“Because you’ve been ignoring everybody.”

“I’ve been working.”

“And refusing to pay for things.”

There it was.

Not Abby.

Not Christmas.

The garage door.

The bills.

I opened the folder.

“Starting this month, I’m no longer paying your personal expenses.”

Mom stared at me.

“What personal expenses?”

I slid a sheet toward her.

“Your cell phones. Dad’s supplemental insurance. The landscaping service. Your car insurance. The credit card I’ve been paying when you’re short. Anything that isn’t my legal responsibility as the property owner.”

Dad picked up the paper.

“Kate, where is this coming from?”

“I’m also ending the arrangement where you live here without paying rent.”

Mom’s face changed.

“What?”

I placed Rachel’s notice beside the first sheet.

“This explains the timeline. You’re not being thrown out today. You have time to find somewhere else.”

Janelle pushed back from the table.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“No.”

“You’re evicting Mom and Dad because Abby missed one dinner?”

Mom slapped her hand lightly against the table.

“Exactly. Finally somebody says it. One dinner, Kate. One.”

I turned toward her.

“You sent my sixteen-year-old daughter onto the highway alone on Christmas Eve without feeding her.”

“There wasn’t room.”

“Then you make room.”

“We couldn’t magically create another chair.”

From the end of the table, Dad looked down.

I noticed it.

“Dad.”

He kept looking at the paper.

“Look at me.”

He did.

“Was there another chair?”

Mom answered first.

“What difference does that make?”

I kept looking at him.

“Was there?”

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the notice.

“There was a folding chair outside.”

Nobody spoke.

Janelle shifted in her seat.

Mom stared at him.

“Frank.”

“She asked me.”

I leaned back.

“Where?”

“Behind the patio door.”

Mom shook her head.

“That thing is uncomfortable.”

“Abby would have sat on the floor.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not.”

I tapped the notice.

“That’s why I’m not arguing about this anymore.”

There Was Plenty of Food

My aunt Denise called me that evening.

She had been at Christmas dinner.

“I heard about the house.”

“I figured you would.”

“Your mother is furious.”

“I figured that too.”

Denise hesitated.

“Kate, there’s something you should know.”

I stopped unloading the dishwasher.

“What?”

“There was plenty of food.”

I leaned against the counter.

“I know.”

“No, I mean a ridiculous amount. Your mother sent me home with ham, potatoes, rolls and half a pie. Janelle took containers too.”

I didn’t say anything.

Denise continued.

“I thought Abby left because she wasn’t feeling well. That’s what your mom told me.”