Two other neighbors, a couple from the third floor, stopped near the elevator to watch.
“We need to talk inside, Eleanor,” I said, keeping my hands in my coat pockets.
“We will talk right here,” she said, her aristocratic cadence echoing off the high ceiling. “You left your family in the middle of winter to chase a paycheck in Germany, and now you treat your sister like a criminal.”
She took a step closer, her heels clicking sharply on the polished stone.
“You are choosing an outsider over the mother who gave you everything,” she said.
“The outsider is my wife,” I said. “And the baby you left in a freezing apartment is your grandson.”
“We left because the pipes were rattling, David,” she said, raising her voice so the neighbors could hear every word. “Maya was screaming at us. She was completely out of control. We had to protect ourselves.”
