Chapter 2

Deborah rolled her eyes. "If your mother can't handle it, then she doesn't have to come. She's from the sticks. She's used to roughing it. What's so bad about the storage room?"

Ella straightened up and took her mother's side. "Justin, enough! It was only a few nights in the storage room. What's the big deal?"

"Would you make Kevin stay in there?" I shot back.

Ella finally lost her patience and threw what she was holding onto the floor.

"What do you expect me to do? Make Kevin and his daughter sleep in the storage room? You'd really make a three-year-old sleep in there?"

Apparently, making Kevin and his three-year-old sleep there was unthinkable, but putting Mom there after a seven-hour bus ride just to see me was perfectly fine.

Deborah scoffed. "Kevin is family. Of course he can stay with his own sister. But your mother? She's old enough to have her own place instead of staying with her married son. People would talk!"

I dug my nails into my palm.

Funny how Deborah hadn't said any of that when Mom paid for the condo.

We'd agreed from the start to keep a bedroom for Mom so she could move in with us when she got older. Instead, Deborah moved in first and pushed Mom out.

And now Mom couldn't even visit me once in a while without being made to feel unwelcome in the condo she'd paid for.

How was that fair?

I was about to argue when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Deborah hurried to answer it, her face lighting up. "Oh, Kevin! You're here! Come in, come in. Where's Tina? I've missed her so much!"

It was Kevin and his daughter, Tina Shaw.

Tina walked in with a melting lollipop in her hand. Sticky drops hit the floor as she went, leaving a trail behind her.

Deborah glanced down at the mess and smiled. "Look how cute she is."

When Mom came to visit, she wore the nice clothes she saved for holidays and special occasions. Everything she had on was spotless, but they still treated her like she was dirty.

The pecans in the pies came from her own tree. She picked them herself, let them dry, and saved them for Thanksgiving instead of eating them.

The moment Deborah saw the pies, she covered her nose and complained that they smelled weird.

Ella didn't even open the box. She just picked it up and tossed it straight into the trash with a disgusted look.

I closed my eyes for a moment. I couldn't stand watching them act like one big happy family anymore, so I turned and walked into the kitchen.

The pecan pies Mom had made especially for me were still in the trash. I sighed, pulled them out, opened the box, and took a bite of one.

It tasted exactly the way I remembered.

Mom knew how much I loved pecan pie, so she always started getting everything ready early. She'd sort through the pecans, shell them one by one, and save the best ones for my pies.

Then she spent seven hours on a bus with the pies in her lap, just to bring them to me. She'd put so much care into making them, only for Ella to throw them away because she thought they were dirty.

I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and took another bite. The pie was cold, and the crust had gone a little hard, but I kept eating.

Mom had brought them all this way just for me. I couldn't let them go to waste. When I was done, I put the rest of the pies in the fridge.

As soon as I stepped out of the kitchen, I saw Tina scribbling all over a family photo of me, Mom, and Dad with markers.

"What are you doing?"

I rushed over and snatched the photo out of her hands.

Tina burst into tears. "Uncle Justin's mean!"