She thought about it.
“I don’t remember.”
That answer hurt more than anything else.
Around seven o’clock, headlights pulled into the driveway.
Rachel finally arrived.
She walked inside carrying an iced coffee, designer handbag hanging casually from one shoulder.
Perfect makeup.
Fresh manicure.
Not a single sign that she’d spent the day rushing between responsibilities.
Instead, she looked relaxed.
Almost refreshed.
“There are my babies!”
The children ran toward her.
She hugged them dramatically.
Then she turned toward my mother.
“Thanks.”
One word.
Nothing else.
No apology.
No explanation.
Not even a question asking how the day had gone.
I folded my arms.
“Rachel.”
She looked at me.
“Oh.”
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“I have a question.”
“Sure.”
“What exactly happened to watching them for one hour?”
She shrugged.
“I got busy.”
“You disappeared for over ten hours.”
“So?”
“My mother is sixty-eight.”
“I know how old she is.”
“She has arthritis.”
Rachel rolled her eyes.
“She’s fine.”
“No.”
“She’s retired.”
“So?”
Rachel laughed.
“Seriously?”
“You two are acting like I committed a crime.”
“You abandoned your kids.”
“I left them with family.”
“Without asking if she could watch them all day.”
Rachel leaned against the counter.
“We’re family.”
“I don’t pay family.”
“I didn’t ask about paying.”
“I know where this is going.”
She smiled smugly.
“I’m not giving your mom money.”
“Why not?”
“Because she sits at home doing nothing anyway.”
She actually laughed.
“Honestly, I’m doing her a favor.”
I stared at her.
“A favor?”
“She probably gets bored.”
“My kids give her something meaningful to do.”
Behind me, I heard my mother quietly say,
“Rachel…”
But Rachel wasn’t finished.
“Retirement isn’t exactly exhausting.”
