“Which is why I’m offering you the chance to leave peacefully. Because if you stay, I will call the IRS and report an unregistered rental with undeclared income.” “I’m sure your tech tenants would love a surprise complication.” “And while I’m at it, I’ll call that private clinic that hands out fake diagnoses.”
“I’m guessing their management would rather avoid a scandal involving fraudulent medical paperwork.” Susan clenched her fists, sprang off the couch, and without another word shot into the hallway. The sound of suitcases being yanked open and makeup bags being thrown inside was the sweetest music of the evening.
Eleanor, red-faced and furious, rose slowly to her feet. She shot her son a look of pure contempt, clearly expecting him to take their side, but Mike only covered his face with his hands. “You’ll regret this,” she muttered, pulling on her coat.
“Mike, one day you’ll be sorry you chose this woman over your own blood.” “My own blood is getting too expensive for me, Mom,” Mike said dully from the recliner without lifting his head. The front door slammed.
The pressure shift made Mike’s jacket sway on the hook in the hallway. The air in the condo immediately felt cleaner, as if someone had shut off a smoke machine at a bad concert. Dasha went to the window and cracked it open, letting in the cool evening air.
“Nastya,” Mike said, lifting his eyes to his daughter. His voice held a mix of shame and wounded pride. “Did you really write all that down in your notebook?”
Nastya shrugged. “No. I just remembered it.” “My sketchbook is for the comic I’m drawing about a diplodocus stepping on a sneaky fox.”
“Mom, will you show me how to shade the legs right?” “Of course, sweetheart.” Dasha went into the kitchen, took her good Ethiopian coffee out of its hiding place in the cabinet, poured the beans into the coffee machine, and pressed the button.
The refrigerator hummed in steady approval. Order had returned to the home, and in this house, she was the one who set it. There was no more room here for other people’s luggage, and there wouldn’t be again.
