“A problem?” Victoria echoed as her voice began to climb in pitch. “I am her father’s wife, and I have hosted every holiday in this house for years.”
“I have paid for improvements to this home and I have every right to be here,” she shouted. “Actually, your right to host holidays was extended as a courtesy by Audrey’s mother during her lifetime,” Lydia interrupted.
“That courtesy was later tolerated by Audrey out of deference to her father, but those are not the same as legal rights,” Lydia added. Victoria’s head turned sharply toward me with a look of naked fury.
“You knew about this the entire time?” Victoria asked through gritted teeth. The question was so ridiculous that it almost made me want to laugh out loud.
“Yes, Victoria, I knew,” I replied. “Then why didn’t you ever say anything to us?” she demanded.
I thought about how my mother had asked me not to turn the house into a weapon. I thought about how I was twenty three and drowning in grief after she died, while my father looked smaller and weaker without her.