“Emily, why are there people sleeping in my house?”
“Oh, Mom, relax! They’re David’s relatives. His parents needed somewhere to host a family reunion.”
“Fifteen people?”
“They’re leaving tomorrow. Don’t make a scene.”
“Emily, I gave you that key to water my plants!”
“I know. But you weren’t using the house.”
Before I could respond, she hung up.
I stood in the hallway, staring at the phone.
My refrigerator was nearly empty. Dirty dishes filled the kitchen sink, and someone had moved the photographs of my late husband, Robert, from the mantel.
I found them stacked in a drawer beneath the television.
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