“No. You answered a different one.” He looked directly at his mother. “So let me ask again. Who permitted you to touch Maxine’s belongings?”
Silence.
Finally, Janice shrugged.
“This is our house too.”
Jake stared at her.
Then he looked at me.
“Kyra.”
“Yes?”
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“Would you mind bringing me the folder from the office?”
I knew exactly which folder he meant.
I’d seen it sitting in our filing cabinet for months.
I had never opened it.
I returned with the thick manila folder.
Jake laid it on the kitchen table.
Janice frowned.
“What’s that supposed to be?”
“Our future.”
Bruce snorted. “You’ve become dramatic.”
Jake ignored him.
He opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Printed emails.
Notes.
A legal pad filled with dates.
Janice’s smile faded.
“What is all this?”
Jake flipped to the first page.
“Three years ago.” He looked at his parents. “You promised to stay three months.”
He turned another page.
“Six months later, Kyra asked whether you’d started looking for another place.”
Another page.
“You said you needed more time.”
Another.
“Then came the bad knee.”
Another.
“The housing market.”
Another.
“The apartment that fell through.”
Another.
“The allergies.”
Bruce frowned.
“You’ve been keeping records?”
Jake nodded.
“For almost two years.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“You never told me.”
“I hoped I’d never need them.”
Janice laughed nervously.
“Records of what?”
“Every conversation where we asked you to move.”
The laughter disappeared.
Jake pulled out a certified envelope.
“I met with an attorney six weeks ago.”
Bruce’s face hardened.
“What?”
“I wanted to know our legal options.”
Janice looked genuinely stunned.
“You were going to evict us?”
“I hoped I wouldn’t have to.”
He held up another document. “My lawyer told me to document everything.”
He looked around the kitchen.
“I kept hoping you’d remember this was our home.”
Janice slammed her hand on the table.
“After everything we’ve done for you?”
Jake nodded slowly.
“I’ll always be grateful you helped when the twins were born.” He looked toward the guest room. “But gratitude doesn’t give you the right to throw a recovering 70-year-old woman onto my front steps.”
The room fell silent.
Bruce finally spoke.
“You’re choosing her over us.”
Jake’s expression never changed.
“I’m choosing decency.”
Janice pointed toward me.
“She’s turning you against your own parents.”
I finally spoke.
“No, you did that yourselves.”
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Jake placed another envelope on the table.
“This is your formal 30-day notice.”
Janice blinked.
“What?”
“It was going to stay in my desk.” He slid it toward her. “Until today.”
Bruce didn’t move.
“You can’t be serious.”
Jake looked him directly in the eyes.
“I’ve never been more serious.”
Janice pushed the envelope away.
“We’re not taking that.”
Jake calmly picked it up again.
“My attorney anticipated that.”
He set it back down.
“You’ve now been served in front of witnesses.”
Bruce laughed.
“You wouldn’t actually throw your own parents out.”
