The Son-in-Law Who Stole My Life

ow filled with the scent of cinnamon and yeast. We were a group of six retired women, friends who shared a l

r beside my flour-dusted apron,

"Excuse me

ide. But in my haste, my thumb fumbled, and instead of ju

d and furious, fil

Susan is miserable! You've cut her off, you're holdi

stantly. Five pairs of eyes swivel

e speaker, my cheeks bur

hat house, you have your pension! We're struggling here! That three tho

The irony was

fish, bitter old woman, Martha! And if you think you're

ed to stab the

n the kitchen, thic

any confrontation, cleared her throat.

family disagreement, Mar

eyes. "That man sounds like a bully.

ide, to unburden myself. But another p

complicat

orward. Sounds like he's trying to shake you down. A

reement went a

ot getting what he wants. The man is delusional." I punch

anor, who had been quiet througho

but... sometimes, for the sake of family, we have to compromise. Maybe if you

ely well-intentioned,

bout money. It's about respect. And frankly, my

ded stiffly. "Of course, dear. I

ust to me, but now to my friends. And Susan, by her silence, was complicit. The