Patricia looked genuinely surprised.
“Mark doesn’t need an inheritance.”
She sounded proud of the decision, which made it worse.
“Mark and Claire both have good jobs,” she continued. “They own their home. They’ve always taken care of themselves.”
Richard nodded. “Your sisters could use the security more than you could, son.”
Susan went completely still.
Rebecca looked uncomfortable enough that I almost felt sorry for her, even though none of this was her fault.
Mark took a sip of water.
Then he said, “Okay.”
That was all.
No argument.
No questions about percentages.
No demand to know why being responsible had somehow become grounds for exclusion.
Just okay.
Patricia reached over and touched his arm.
“I knew you’d understand.”
I remember thinking she couldn’t have chosen a worse sentence.
Apparently, the evening wasn’t finished.
About ten minutes later, while people collected their coats, Patricia approached us.
“Mark, before you leave, could you look at the garage door? It’s making that clicking noise again.”
For a second, I thought I’d misunderstood.
Mark hadn’t.
“Sure, Mom.”
So naturally, we stopped at their house on the way home, because apparently the clicking garage door faced a medical emergency and couldn’t possibly wait until Saturday.
Richard opened the garage while Mark removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
I stood beside the workbench as my husband knelt on the cold concrete and examined the safety sensor.
Patricia hovered behind him.
“See? It does that little jerk.”
“I see it.”
“Is it the motor?”
“No.”
“Is it expensive?”
“I don’t know yet, Mom.”
She went inside to make coffee.
I waited until the kitchen door shut.
Then I stared at my husband.
He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
I lowered my voice. “You were informed ten minutes ago that you don’t need anything from them, and now you’re on your knees fixing something they need from you.”
He looked at me briefly.
Then he turned back to the sensor.
“Hand me that screwdriver.”
That was Mark.
For the twelve years we had lived twenty-five minutes from his parents, he had been their first call for almost everything.
When Richard had cataract surgery, Mark drove him.
When Patricia needed a colonoscopy, Mark used a vacation day.
When hail damaged their roof, Mark handled the insurance adjuster because apparently dealing with insurance companies was another family responsibility that had skipped his sisters.
