“Let her be furious,” Noah said. “She has her own savings.”
“We do not know that for sure,” I said.
Noah stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the gravel parking lot below my apartment.
“She has the brick house,” Noah said. “She has Josh’s pension.”
“The pension was small, Noah.”
“She has enough,” he said. “Do not give her more.”
I gathered the white lilies into a tight bundle and tied the blue ribbon in a double knot. I had to know if Clara was really struggling, or if she was just testing our loyalty again. We had spent our entire lives trying to prove we were worth the space we took up in her house.
“I have to go,” I said. “It is her birthday.”
Noah turned around, his face flat and unreadable.
“She does not care about the flowers, Eric,” he said. “She only cares about who is listening to her.”
