Charlene arrived forty minutes later with Marissa in the passenger seat. Graham kept Juniper upstairs while I met them on the porch with the folder from our closing. Mom immediately demanded to know where I had gotten “their money.” I opened the folder and showed her the transfer records. Most of our down payment had come from the investment account Grandma created directly for me years earlier. The rest came from Graham and me. Dad’s repayment from spring was listed separately, matching the original loan I had made him.
Mom stared at the statements while Marissa went unusually quiet. Then Dad pulled into the driveway. He had followed them because, as he later admitted, he knew exactly what Charlene was going to accuse me of. Standing beside my porch, he finally said what he had refused to say at Christmas dinner: “Delia didn’t take money from us. I borrowed from her. I paid her back.”
Charlene’s face changed, but there was no apology. She simply said I had embarrassed her by keeping the house secret.
I closed the folder.
“You called my daughter a burden. You don’t get access to our new home until that changes.”
A week later, we moved.
Juniper chose the bedroom with the biggest window.
For once, nobody in my family got a vote.
