My Daughter-in-Law Threw Me Out of My Own Home and Told My Son It Was My Idea — But She Didn’t Know I Held a Dark Secret About Her

Then I thought of Pat. She lived across the street, my friend since ’86 when my car broke down constantly and she showed up with jumper cables and a quip about my ex looking like a baked potato in pants. Best friend ever since.

I gathered my bags, the ruined cake, and crossed the street. Before I could knock, her porch light flicked on. The door opened.

There was Pat: curlers in her hair, robe slipping off one shoulder, cat tucked under her arm like a sidekick. “Well, goodness. I thought you’d be settled in some cozy senior home by now.”

“What?”

“Chloe told everyone you wanted to move to one of those nice retirement places.

Said it was your idea, Lach’s gift to you.” She tilted her head. “That was your plan, wasn’t it?”

I didn’t answer. I stepped inside, set my bags by her armchair, and put the cake on her kitchen counter.

Pat followed, barefoot and curious. “Estel, what’s going on?”

“She locked me out.”

Pat poured two mugs of the tea she always keeps warm and sat me down. “Tell me everything.”

I sank onto her checkered bench.

“She packed my things. Left cab money. Told Lach I wanted to leave, and if I want to see the kids again, I have to play her game.”

Pat’s eyes widened.

“If I had a taser…”

“I’m not joking.”

She leaned back. “Is the house still in your name?”

“No. I put their names on it last year.”

“You did what?”

“Chloe said it would help with taxes.

Lach agreed. It seemed reasonable.”

Pat sighed. “You gave her everything, and now she’s acting like you’re the guest.”

“I just wanted to make things easier,” I said softly.

Pat reached over and held my hand. “You’re not sleeping outside tonight. You’re staying here.”

“I don’t want to stir up trouble…”

“Trouble?

This is the most fun this street’s had since Mr. Jenkins mowed his lawn in cheetah-print boxers.”

I laughed, even though my chest ached. Pat leaned back.

“So, what’s our next step?”

“I don’t want a big fight. Not in court, not with Lach. I just can’t lose my grandkids.”

“Then we don’t fight loud.

We fight clever.”

I glanced out her window. My porch was still dark. “She’s hiding something.”

Pat grinned.

“I’ve seen her lately. Sneaky phone calls. Lights up like a kid when Lach’s away.” Continue reading…