Her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed them down her sweater. She looked at me, then at the table, then at Aiden, who was already shrinking into his chair like he knew he was part of this story.
“At Thanksgiving,” Jessica said, “Aiden threw a fork at Nina. And he called her ‘the help.’”
The words sat heavy in the air.
No one laughed this time.
“I laughed,” Jessica continued, voice breaking. “And I didn’t correct him. I told him it wasn’t nice to say out loud, but I didn’t stop it. Because the truth is… I’ve called Nina ‘the help’ in this house.”
Jennifer’s phone slipped from her hand onto her lap.
My mother’s face went pale.
“I’ve talked about Nina behind her back,” Jessica said, voice shaking. “I’ve told people she’s struggling. That she barely got by. That she ‘helped with our down payment’ like it was just a little favor.”
She swallowed hard.
“That’s a lie,” she said. “Four years ago, Marcus and I couldn’t get a mortgage. We were denied everywhere. Nina bought this house outright. Paid $385,000 in cash.”
The room reacted like the air had been punched out of it.