Margaret looked up, her lower lip trembling slightly despite her efforts to maintain composure. "Richard... please. I sold my cottage in Vermont to give you and Clara the deposit for this very house. I paid for this mortgage..."
"You gave a gift," Richard snapped, stepping out onto the porch, his hand still extended in a dismissive, pointing gesture. "And gifts don't come with a lifelong deed. Clara and I hold the title. My name is on the mortgage deed. Your name isn't anywhere on the county land registry."
In the shadow of the foyer behind Richard stood Clara, Margaret’s thirty-two-year-old daughter. She wore a cream silk blouse, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes fixed firmly on the hardwood floor. She didn't speak. She didn't look up to meet her mother's gaze.
"Clara..." Margaret whispered, her voice cracking as she looked past Richard's shoulder at her daughter. "Clara, tell him. Tell him about the agreement we made at the bank..."
Clara swallowed hard, her jaw tightening, but she remained silent, choosing the safety of her husband’s authority over her mother's tearful plea.