“You called me the old woman,” she said. “But this old woman can still read, Raymond. And she knows the difference between a son and a thief.”
Sandra started to cry, but not out of guilt. She was crying because she could no longer hide the luxury that had been paid for with my grandmother’s hunger.
My father tried to move toward her.
“Mom, I was going to pay it all back. It was for the family.”
“I’m family too,” she replied. “Or am I only family when you need my signature?”
The silence was brutal.
Marcus opened the last folder. He let it sit closed for a moment, as if he was hesitating to say what came next.
“Doña Ellen, there’s something else. Before the trip, your son began the paperwork to sell this house.”
I felt the floor shift under me.
My grandmother went completely still.
“My house?”
Marcus nodded.
“There’s also a document prepared to have you placed in a private care facility. All it needed was your signature.”
My father looked away.
And then I understood why they had wanted to take the whole family to Spain — everyone except her.
Because while the family was posting pictures in Europ
