The central question was already hovering over the table, unspoken but heavy. Could I keep my late husband’s legacy safe, or would my own son force me to turn my home into a boarding house for his wife’s family?
“Family helps family, Margaret,” Linda said, her smile remaining perfectly in place as she reached for the bread basket. “We would be quiet. We would stay out of your way.”
“I am not looking for roommates, Linda,” I said.
Daniel checked his watch again, the metal band catching the dining room light. “You sit here alone in this giant house and won’t inconvenience yourself for family?”
“I have lived here for thirty years,” I said. “This is not about convenience. It is about keeping my life manageable.”
“Manageable means letting us help you,” Daniel said, his voice rising. “We are only talking about the two back bedrooms. You never even go in them.”
“Those rooms are reserved for when the grandchildren come to visit,” I said.
Vanessa let out a short, harsh laugh. “Grandchildren? Daniel and I are working eighty hours a week just to keep our heads above water. We cannot afford children, Margaret. Not while we are paying off the credit cards.”
Frank cleared his throat again, the sound thick and wet. “We are not asking for charity, Margaret. I can pay five hundred dollars a month toward the utilities.”
I knew five hundred dollars would not even cover the heating bill for this place in the winter, but I did not say that. I looked at Daniel, hoping to find some support, but he was looking at his watch again.
“The lease ends on May first,” Daniel said. “They do not have another place lined up.”
“They have six weeks to find an apartment,” I said.
