"Swamped?" Otis scoffed. "Swamped with what? I've got more on my plate in a single day than he sees in a month, and you don't hear me complaining."
Steve Henson didn't even look up from his phone. "Dad, come on, you know what he's like. Guy's a slacker. Always has been."
"Every time you ask him to do something, he drags his feet. When has he ever gotten anything done on time?"
Valerie Whitney set a fruit platter on the coffee table and let out a cold laugh.
"An outsider is an outsider. He could marry into this family, but you can't polish a turd."
"I told you from the start, Otis. When you bring in a live-in son-in-law, you'd better choose carefully. But nobody listened to me."
"And now look. Seven years of feeding and housing the man, and what do we have to show for it?"
Otis said nothing. He picked up his teacup and took a slow sip.
Felicity stared down at her own hands and stayed silent.
I stood around the corner of the foyer, just beyond the reach of the light.
No one in the living room knew I was home.
Steve spoke up again. "Seriously, sis, what did you ever see in him?"