I slid the final document toward Dad. It was a recorded mortgage satisfaction showing their house had been paid off six years earlier. I had called the lender after Christmas because Mom kept insisting the “mortgage draft” was due. There hadn’t been one in years. My $4,600 monthly transfers had simply continued flowing into the account Mom controlled. Dad stared at the date, then looked at her. “You told me Rebecca wanted to keep helping,” he said. Mom immediately insisted the money had still gone toward household expenses, but suddenly nobody was talking about what I “owed” anymore.
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