“Goddamn it.” Dad tosses his fork on the table. “I didn’t have a chance to bring it up yet.”
“Oh.” Jim cringes at Liz.
“Bring what up?” My stomach sinks as it all becomes clear. “You want to sell? You said you’d never sell.”
“Never isn’t realistic, Marie.” Liz’s tone is patronizing, like an adult lecturing a child.
Dad opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to choose his words. “We’re just talking … we haven’t …” He ends his attempt with an annoyed glare at Jim.
“I don’t think this is the appropriate time to have this conversation,” Mom says calmly, setting her cutlery down. Her meal is half-finished.
But it’s too late for calm. “Well, no, because apparently, we were already supposed to have had this conversation.” My voice cracks as I stare at my father. “Why are you talking about selling the clinic with Jim and Liz? They have nothing to do with it. I’m the one running it.”
“Yeah, into the ground.” Liz collects Jim’s plate and sets it on top of hers. “I’ve seen the numbers, Marie. It’s barely operational.”
“Oh, no.” Vicki pinches the bridge of her nose. Beside her, Oliver keeps his focus on his plate.
The idea that Liz has been scouring over the clinic’s revenue ignites my anger and squashes all semblance of civility. “First of all, my business numbers are my business numbers.” I scowl at Jim, my cheeks burning. “If my accountant can’t respect confidentiality, I’ll fire his ass. Secondly, the clinic brings in more money than it spends, which means it is profitable. But I guess someone who failed basic math twice might not understand that concept.”
Tillie gapes at her mother. “You failed math?”
Liz’s nostrils flare, and I know I’ve struck a chord. “Whose name is going to be on that loan for the new ultrasound?”
“That’s none of your business. And I’m the one paying for it!”
“Who owns the home you live in, rent-free? Who owns basically everything you have, besides your truck? Not you! And I may not be as book smart as you are, Marie, but I’ve made smart choices for my life. Can you say that?”
I know it’s a dig about Jonathan. “Having a husband who pays all your bills doesn’t make you smart, Liz. It makes you dependent.”
“Girls, we’re not having this fight.” My dad tries to cut in.
But it’s too late. Angry words that have been simmering under the surface for years are spilling out with the boil.
“Oh, and you’re so independent?” A wicked smile warps Liz’s pretty face. “You want that clinic so bad? Buy it from them, then.”
I grit my teeth. She knows I can’t afford that. “Dad wanted me to run it. He wanted to keep it in the family.”
“Well, maybe they want something different now. Maybe they don’t want to spend their last years living off whatever meager monthly check you hand them. But you haven’t thought about that, have you? No, because it’s always about Marie. Everything is about Marie!”
My dad bangs the table with his fist. “Enough!”
Dead silence echoes through the house, his anger a rare and jarring spectacle.
A symphony begins—first Nicole’s confused whimper, then Tillie’s poorly stifled sobs.
Until finally Molly lets out a strangled wail from the other room.
* * *
I pause, my hands holding a pot in the sudsy sink, to watch the moose hover by the clinic door across the lawn. He’s young. Probably a little over a year old, and he’s standing there as if waiting for someone to unlock the front door and invite him in. Behind him, the evening sky glows with rich hues of orange. It’s almost ten p.m., but in the season of the midnight sun, it’s nowhere near ready to settle for the day.
“He’s been coming around a lot,” Mom says from behind me, reaching for a tea towel and then a pot from the drainer. “Your father is convinced the one that driver hit down the road a few weeks ago was his mother.”
“I think he’s right. They walked along the tree line during winter, but I haven’t seen her lately.” He hadn’t begun to grow his first set of antlers yet. Now, they’re blooming into a majestic crown atop his head.
I give the animal another moment of my attention and then finish scrubbing the last pot and set it to dry. The house is eerily quiet. Everyone decided it was best to go their separate ways soon after dinner. The girls even got away without finishing their broccoli. “I’m going to head home now, if there’s nothing else to do here.” I can’t help but tack on, bitterness in my voice, “While it’s still my home.”
Mom sets a soothing hand on my shoulder. “Liz and Jim have no say in what we decide to do.”
“Tell that to Liz.”
“You know your sister. She always has an opinion to share. But you need to talk to him, Marie. Neither of you will sleep otherwise. Which means I won’t sleep. So, please, sort it out.”