"I'll treat you like my own mother. Ginny and I will bring you to the city and take care of you properly."
When he said it, his eyes looked so sincere. And I believed him—believed every word, all the way down to my bones.
Three years had passed since then.
The day they brought me to the city to live the good life never came.
What came instead was a bill for fifteen thousand in lodging fees.
When I didn't speak, Lucia looked down at me from across the room.
"Now, now. Don't go feeling sorry for yourself."
"People our age, we're supposed to give. That's our job."
"While we can still get around, helping the young ones out, pitching in some money—that's just what's expected."
*A spirit of sacrifice.*
Those words, out of her mouth, made my skin crawl.
I looked at Lucia Lambert and wanted so badly to ask: where, exactly, had she ever sacrificed a thing?
When Jeffrey married my daughter, she hadn't contributed a single cent.
Through all ten months of Virginia's pregnancy, she'd done nothing but complain about her own back pain and leg pain. She had plenty of energy for line dancing in the park, but she'd never once cooked my daughter a meal.