PART 4

Her face hardened.

“Good. Because it’s none of your business.”

I went back upstairs.

I told myself the conversation had nothing to do with me.

The next morning proved otherwise.

Saturday was my last full day there.

Graham was due home at sunrise on Sunday.

I had imagined we would all have breakfast together before I drove home.

Instead, Bianca walked into the kitchen while I was drinking coffee and placed a sheet of paper in front of me.

“There.”

I looked down.

It was an invoice.

My name was typed neatly at the top.

Guest-room accommodation: $900.

Meals, utilities, and air conditioning: $650.

Use of household facilities: $450.

TOTAL DUE: $2,000.

I actually laughed because I assumed it was a joke.

Bianca didn’t laugh.

“You’re serious?”

“You stayed here for an entire week.”

“You invited me.”

“And you still used the house.”

I stared at her.

“I bought groceries twice.”

“That was your choice.”

“I watched your children every day.”

“You’re their grandmother.”

“I cooked every meal.”

“Nobody forced you.”

My cheeks started burning.

Bianca folded her arms.

“I know this sounds formal, but money has been tight. I can’t just let people stay here for free.”

People.

I had driven three hours because she said my grandchildren missed me.

I had spent seven days cleaning her home.

Now I was “people.”

I slowly folded the invoice.

“I don’t have $2,000 available today.”

Her expression softened into the smallest satisfied smile.

“Tomorrow morning is fine.”

I nodded.

“All right.”

Then I carried my coffee upstairs.

For several minutes, I sat on the guest bed staring at the folded invoice.

My first instinct was humiliation.

My second was to call Graham.

My third was to write Bianca a check and leave before sunrise.

Then I noticed a drawing Maisie had left beside my suitcase.

It showed five people holding hands.

She had written GRANDMA above the woman with gray hair.

Underneath, in crooked letters, she had added:

COME BACK SOON.

I looked at that picture for a long time.

Then something inside me hardened in a good way.

I had spent years shrinking myself because I was afraid my family might decide I was difficult.

I had mistaken silence for dignity.

It wasn’t.

Sometimes dignity required answering.

So I opened my suitcase and took out a notebook.

I started calculating.

Seven days of childcare.

Cooking.

Shopping.

Laundry.

Cleaning.

Transportation.

Errands.

I didn’t exaggerate.

I used the average hourly rates I could reasonably remember for local childcare and cleaning services.

Then I added the groceries I had purchased.

By the time I finished, Bianca owed me $6,350.

I deducted her ridiculous $2,000 lodging charge.

Balance due to Dorothea: $4,350.

But that wasn’t enough.

I found a large piece of poster board among the children’s craft supplies.

Then I made something Bianca couldn’t quietly hide in a drawer.

Before sunrise the next morning, I carried the sign to the edge of the driveway.

I propped it where anyone arriving could see it.

It read:

HOUSEHOLD HELP WANTED

Duties include:

Full-time childcare
Cooking three meals daily
Laundry
Deep cleaning
Shopping
Homework help
Personal errands

Seven-day salary: $6,350

Special family discount: Employee pays employer $2,000

Net pay: MINUS $2,000

Applicants must bring their own groceries.

Then I went inside and waited.

At six-thirty, Graham’s truck turned into the driveway.

Bianca ran outside in her robe.

She stopped when she saw the sign.

Her scream could have woken the entire street.

“What have you done?!”

Graham climbed out of his truck.

He looked at Bianca.

Then the sign.

Then me, standing on the porch.

A neighbor walking her dog stopped.

Another man across the street stepped toward his mailbox and began reading.

Bianca rushed toward the sign.

“Take this down!”

Graham caught her arm.

“Wait. What is this?”

“It’s a joke.”

“No,” I said calmly. “It isn’t.”

I walked down the driveway and handed Graham the invoice his wife had given me.

He read it.

Then read it again.

“You charged my mother $2,000?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART…