Pet fee, though they did not own a pet.

Administrative fee.

Moving fee.

Almost four thousand dollars.

“You want me to pay this?”

“You’re the one making us leave.”

“No.”

“Mom.”

“No.”

“How are we supposed to move if you won’t let us move?”

I almost admired the logic.

Every path led to my wallet.

“You have incomes.”

“We have bills.”

“So do I.”

“You have savings.”

“So should you.”

Her face changed.

For the first time, I saw embarrassment beneath the anger.

“We don’t.”

“I know.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“I know you didn’t save.”

“You don’t know anything about our finances.”

“Then why are you asking me for four thousand dollars?”

She lowered the paper.

I said, “What happened to the money you were supposed to save here?”

She looked toward the hallway.

“Things got expensive.”

“Everything got expensive for everyone.”

“Greg’s hours—”

“Greg’s hours increased six months ago.”

Her head snapped toward me.

That was a guess.

A good one.

I had noticed he started leaving earlier and talking about weekend shifts.

Sarah’s expression confirmed it.

“So where did it go?”

“That’s between me and my husband.”

I nodded.

“You’re right.”

That surprised her.

“And this money is between me and myself.”

I closed the door.

Ten minutes later, something shattered downstairs.

I ran out.

A picture frame lay broken in the hallway.

Robert’s photograph.

The one from the staircase table.

Greg stood nearby.

Sarah was behind him.

Lily was at the top of the stairs.

Greg raised both hands.

“Accident.”

I looked at the photograph beneath the broken glass.

A crack ran across Robert’s face.

And something inside me became perfectly calm.

I took out my phone.

I photographed it.

Greg’s smile disappeared.

“What are you doing?”

“Documenting the accident.”

“It’s a picture frame.”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, Carolyn.”

I crouched and carefully picked up Robert’s photograph.

Then I looked at both of them.

“The deadline in the notice has not changed.”

Sarah’s face twisted.

“You really hate us.”

“No.”

I stood.

“That would be easier.”

I walked upstairs carrying Robert’s broken photograph.

Behind me, nobody laughed.