Her father gave a stiff nod. The rest dispersed in that embarrassed, overcareful way people do when they realize they have agreed to attend something indecent.
I stepped aside only when they were all moving away from the porch.
Inside, I led the four of them into the living room.
Rebecca stayed near the bookshelf. Toby took the armchair by the window. Garrett sat on the couch like a man at the dentist. Marissa remained standing, which told me she meant to control the room.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Explain.”
She folded her hands.
“Your decision has created a chain reaction,” she said. “The mortgage is in default danger. Toby can’t cover his rent. My parents were counting on us to help with assisted living next year. Curtis is between jobs. We all rely on each other, Edith. That’s what families do.”
I looked at Garrett.
“Did you know she was going to make this speech in my house?”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth.
“Mom, can we just hear everybody out?”
I turned back to Marissa.
“You brought witnesses so I would feel ashamed.”
“I brought perspective.”
“No. You brought pressure.”
She sighed, as though I were difficult.
“Fine. Let’s set aside intentions. The point is that you are punishing an entire family over one thoughtless text.”
Rebecca spoke then for the first time.
“It wasn’t one text.”
Everyone looked at her.
Marissa’s voice cooled immediately.
“Rebecca.”
“No,” Rebecca said, and I saw my own stubbornness in her then, clean and bright. “It wasn’t one text. It was years.”
Toby shifted in his chair.
Marissa gave her daughter a warning look, then turned back to me.
“What exactly do you want from us, Edith? A formal apology? A weekly schedule? Gratitude on command?”
I almost laughed at the insult hidden inside the phrasing.
“What I wanted,” I said, “was to be treated like family before I stopped funding you, not after.”
Garrett looked up.
“Mom, we do treat you like family.”
I turned to him.
“Do you?”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“All right,” I said. “When was the last time you came here for no reason?”
He stared at me.
“When was the last time you called just because you were thinking of me?”
Nothing.
“Toby,” I said, turning. “When was the last time you visited without needing help?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and said nothing.
“Marissa. Name one act of care you have shown me in the last five years that was not attached to an event, a holiday, or a need.”
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.