Mom shot her a look, then softened her expression at me in a way that once would have made me feel guilty. “Darling, we’re not upset that you bought a place. Of course we’re proud. Very proud. It sounds beautiful.”
“It is.”
“And you must be doing very well,” Dad said.
That was not admiration. That was assessment.
“I’m comfortable,” I said.
My mother leaned forward. “Then you understand why we think it’s time to talk about giving back.”
There it was.
I felt something in me go quiet, not calm exactly, but alert. A deer in the woods hearing a branch snap.
“Giving back,” I repeated.
“To family,” she said, as if that completed the argument.
My father took over, his hands folded on the table. “Your sister is at a transitional point. She’s ready to become independent, but the market is difficult. Young people today face barriers we didn’t face.”
Bethany, who had never paid her own car insurance, nodded solemnly.
“She’s been trying to move forward,” Mom added. “But Chicago rent is outrageous, and she needs an environment where she can build her career.”
“What career?” I asked.
Bethany’s eyes flashed. “Content strategy.”
“You mean social media.”
“That is content strategy.”