Chapter 1

1: 1

The formula can in the trash still had powder stuck to the bottom, and I couldn't stand to waste it.

So I picked it up, scraped it clean with a spoon, and mixed it with water to drink, just as my daughter-in-law walked in.

She let out a snide little laugh.

"Oh my, Mom, at your age you're drinking baby formula now?"

"That's the imported stuff, you know. Over five hundred dollars a can. How does it taste?"

"I've still got more in my room. Want me to bring you another can?"

When my son heard about it, his face went dark and he laid into me.

"Mom, it's one thing that you eat and live here for free, but now you can't even leave my son's formula alone? Isn't that going too far?"

"Times are hard right now. Money doesn't come easy."

"How am I supposed to support someone who wastes everything like you?"

I pressed my lips together and said nothing back.

Two winters ago, over the holidays, my son left me home alone and took his wife's parents abroad on vacation. Sixty thousand dollars.

Last fall, he bought his mother-in-law a pair of jade bracelets. Eighty thousand.

This year he bought her a designer bag. Fifty-three thousand.

And me, after three years as the unpaid live-in nanny in his house, the only gift I ever got.

It was a bouquet of flowers the building management handed out on Mother's Day.

If he thought he couldn't afford to keep me, then I wouldn't force it.

Back in my room, I sent a message to my closest old friend.

"Rosemary, I need you to sell off all my stocks. Wire the ninety million straight to my account."

"And one more thing. Don't tell anyone about this."

"That includes my son."

1

Rosemary was sharp. She caught on right away.

She asked me what had happened.

I didn't hide anything. I told her all of it.

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end, then her voice came through with a sigh.

"I always said it, a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law are hard to live under one roof."

"Back when your son asked you to move in, I told you to think it over."

"You had to go soft. Well, turns out I was right, didn't I?"

I held the phone, my throat tight, and three years ago rose up in front of me.

Back then I'd just retired. Rosemary and a few of us old girlfriends danced in the park every day, went for walks.

Now and then we'd book a tour, off to New Mexico to see Lake Tahoe, off to Santa Fe to see the Grand Canyon.

Life was easy and free. Every day was a good one.

Then came my son's phone call, his voice all worry. "Mom, Lily's pregnant, and we're both swamped at work. Could you come help out?"

My heart went soft, and I said yes without a second thought.

While I was packing, Rosemary still tried to warn me. "Don't be so willing to give everything. Once you're there, don't take it all on yourself. You need a life of your own too."

But I couldn't hear a word of it.

Once I got to my son's place, I gave it everything.

Up at the crack of dawn every day to make breakfast, groceries, cooking, cleaning, looking after my grandson.

Three years, and I never took a cent. I even dipped into my own pension to help cover the household.

I thought I was easing the load for my son. I thought it was love.

But looking back now, all I feel is foolish.

Rosemary asked, "So what are you planning to do now?"

I looked out the window. The night was thickening, and one by one the streetlights in the complex flickered on.

"I'm going to buy my own place and move out."

"About time!" Rosemary was thrilled. "That ninety million is plenty to see you through the rest of your life in comfort. I'll take care of it tomorrow, and I'll let you know the moment the money lands."

After I hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around this room I'd lived in for three years.

Aside from a bed and a cheap little wardrobe, there was almost nothing here that was mine.

Beyond the door I could hear my daughter-in-law playing with my grandson, and my son laughing at the television.

This home, all its warmth belonged to them.

And I was the outsider.

Then I heard my grandson babbling out there, trying out his first words, and something in my heart softened.

That little voice took me back to when my son was small, back when he'd call out "Mama" in that same sweet, milky voice.

Blood is thicker than water, after all, and I still meant to tell my son about the money I'd made on the stocks.

Before I left, I'd pay off their mortgage, so the weight on his shoulders would be a little lighter after that.

I drew in a deep breath, pushed open the door, and walked out to the living room.

My daughter-in-law was holding my grandson, playing with blocks, and when she saw me come out she didn't so much as glance up.

My son was slumped in the sofa, staring at the TV, thumbing the remote through channel after channel.

I sat down in the single armchair off to the side.

"Son, do you remember that stock I bought ten years ago?"