Grandma Gave Mom's House to Her Grandson; I Left Them Homeless

1: 1

Grandma Abbott took my mom's house and handed it to my cousin as his wedding home.

My uncle stood in front of a TV crew and accused my mom of seizing the family's demolition compensation payout.

A crowd of neighbors gathered around and called her an ungrateful daughter.

My mom worked eight years as a housekeeper to buy that house, and she never spent a single night in it after the renovation was done.

I shielded my mom, and I did three things:

I moved her to another city.

I used her own talent to open a company.

And I waited for them to come and try to take it.

The day my uncle burst into that company with a lawyer, I shut the conference room door.

I put the business registration filing up on the screen, and only then did they realize they wouldn't get a single cent.

Grandma always said I was a worthless girl.

Fine. Let her see what a worthless girl could do.

The renovation on the new house was barely finished when Grandma planted herself in the doorway, leaning on a mop handle like a staff.

My uncle, his wife, and their son trailed behind her, smug as anything.

Grandma shouted at my mom.

"Bella Summers, you can't live in this house!"

"Duke's getting married. This house is going to be his wedding home!"

My mom finally couldn't hold it in.

"Mom, I worked eight years abroad as a housekeeper to buy this house, saving every cent!"

"Hailey Fox and I did the renovation with our own hands, right down to the gaps between the floorboards"

"You shut your mouth!"

Grandma jabbed the mop handle at her, driving my mom's back into the wall.

"He's your own brother's son. If you, his aunt, don't help him out, who will?"

"An elder sister is like a mother. How many years have I been telling you that!"

The nerve of her.

I stepped in front of my mom, my head pounding with rage.

"It's our house. Why should we just hand it to your grandson?"

"He wants to get married? Let him earn it himself!"

That was when the TV reporters showed up.

The camera pointed at us like a black hole.

My uncle, Nathan Summers, stood beside it and sighed into the lens.

"You be the judge, everyone. My sister seized our Summers family demolition money to buy a house,"

"and now she won't even let my son use it to get married"

"She's my sister, sure, but this is just bullying!"

My aunt, Julia Whitney, jumped right in.

"Back when she got divorced and came dragging a kid along, we took her in because we felt sorry for her."

"And it turns out the two of them are ungrateful. They took money from her own family, then bit the hand that fed them!"

My cousin, Duke Summers, actually spat at me and my mom.

Even the reporters looked at us with condemnation, like we were a pair of ingrates.

I clenched my fists until my palms ached. The whole thing was upside down.

For years, my uncle's family had never done an honest day's work, and Grandma knew nothing but how to bleed my mom dry.

The load was so heavy that it was what forced her to divorce my dad in the first place.

She raised me and propped up Grandma's whole family for decades.

And now, somehow, she was the one bullying them?

Years of swallowed grievance finally broke out of my mom.

"I did not! Yes, I got divorced, but I never got a single cent of the Summers demolition money!"

That money had gone straight to my aunt, Julia, to build up a bride price for her son, Duke.

Grandma swung the mop and struck my mom across the shoulder.

"You worthless girl, don't you spout your lies here!"

"Without me, would you even be here today? I'm the one who gave you your life!"

She spun around and waved at the camera.

"Today I'm making it plain. This house belongs to the Summers family!"

"Bella Summers has nothing but one girl, and two women living in a place this big is just a waste!"

"Heaven will punish them for it!"

With that, Grandma dug a sheet of paper out of her pants pocket and flung it in my mom's face.

"Sign this!"

A property waiver agreement.

The second party had already signedmy uncle's son, Duke Summers.

"Sign it, and I'll still treat you as a daughter of the Summers family."

"Don't sign, and I'll act like I never gave birth to you!"

My mom looked down at the paper, her shoulders shaking.

My aunt sneered from the side.

"Sis, you're divorced. What good does it do you to be so good to that Hailey girl?"

"Once Duke gets married and has a kid, he can look after you in your old age."

"You surely can't be counting on that worthless girl of yours, can you?"

A few neighbors came out, and having heard only those slanders from my uncle and aunt, they started talking among themselves.

"That older sister really is a piece of work. Openly robbing her family to buy a house?"

"Poor old woman."

"Raising a daughter like that, you'd be better off raising a dog."

The reporter's camera caught every one of them.

My mom had lived her whole life with her dignity intact, and at those words the color drained from her face.

I raised my voice at them.

"My mom didn't rob anyone! This is hers to begin with"

But nobody believed me.

Grandma cut me off, shoved the pen into my mom's hand, and lifted a bottle of pesticide in the other.

"Don't sign, and I'll die right here in front of you!"

"Let everyone see how you drove your own mother to her death over a house!"

My mom's tears fell onto the agreement, blotting into dark, spreading rings.

I held my fists clenched tight.

I'm twenty-three this year, and I studied law.

I knew the house was in my mom's name alone. The ownership was clean and clear.

I knew that Grandma taking the house was against the law, that unlawful entry into a home could land her in prison.

But there was still fear in my mom's eyes.

Every time Grandma came asking for money, every time my uncle "borrowed" money and never paid it back, every New Year when my mom was pressured into handing her nephew the biggest red envelope.

That same fear was in her eyes each time.

It was those words, an elder sister is like a mother, that had pressed down on her for forty years.

She picked up the pen and wrote her name at the bottom of the agreement. Bella Summers.

Grandma snatched it away and passed it to my uncle.

He nodded smugly at the camera.

"Thank you to our reporter friends and to everyone watching for standing up for justice on our behalf!"

"See that? Justice always wins!"

My mom slumped down in the doorway, her back against the wall.

Eight hard years of blood and sweat money, earned scrubbing other people's floors, washing their clothes, soothing their children.

Four bedrooms and a living room, most of half a year spent on the renovation, every tile chosen by her own hand.

And now it belonged to someone else.

Grandma was already directing my aunt.

"The second bedroom can be Duke's study. He loves his games"

"Get a renovation company in there quick and redo the place, don't have the girl's side looking at it and being unhappy"

I crouched down, helped my mom up, and led her toward the door.

"Hailey"

I gripped her hand tight.

She had signed the agreement. She had given up the house.

But whether that agreement held any weight in the eyes of the law, I understood better than anyone.

An agreement signed under coercion, one grossly unfair, can be voided.

What they took today was the last time in my mom's life that she would let her heart go soft.

From here on, there would be no more elder sister is like a mother, no debt of raising, no bond of blood.

The "elder sister is like a mother" my mom had owed for half her life was paid off in full the moment she signed.

The rest, I would collect myself.

2: 2

The local station cut the footage from that day at our door into a "human interest" news story.

"Eighty-Year-Old Mother Weeps for Her Home, Ungrateful Daughter Seizes Demolition Money."

My mother looked at it for one second.

I switched the TV off.

"What do you want to watch that for?"

"Hailey."

She kept her head down. "I've really made a mess of my life."

"When I was a teenager, your grandmother said the family couldn't afford to send two of us to school. It had to go to your uncle."

"At twenty, your grandmother took a two-thousand-dollar bride price from the next town over and married me off."

"Your dad got his year-end bonus at the plant, and your grandmother came over with your uncle."

"They wanted me to hand the money over. I wouldn't, so your grandmother sat down on the living room floor and cried, cried until the middle of the night."

"The neighbors all came to watch. Your dad gave up the money in the end, but I knew it, I'd wronged him."

"After that there was too much of it, and your dad was worn out too."

"I chose to divorce him. I'm the reason this family fell apart."

I sat down beside her and felt how much thinner she'd gotten.

To keep me fed, after the divorce, she'd gone abroad to work in domestic service.

More than ten hours of work a day, all so I'd have a home.

"Mom."

"It's not your fault."

She gave a small laugh.

"Then whose fault is it now?"

The knocking started, angry and hard.

Through the peephole, Duke Summers stood at the door smoking, his mother beside him, my aunt Julia Whitney.

Julia was holding a plastic bag with what looked like some kind of documents inside.

My mother glanced over.

"What are they here for again."

I wouldn't open the door.

"Ignore them."

The words were barely out before the pounding hit again.

Duke's voice went up.

"Cousin, my mom's here with me, open the door already."

I couldn't hold back.

"Stop banging. Say what you came to say."

He gave a laugh.

"I knew you were both cowering in there."

"My girlfriend says her name has to go on it too, or the wedding's off."

"Come to the county recorder's office with us and transfer the title now."

Julia leaned in and called out.

"Hailey, honey, a place like this must run you over a thousand in rent, doesn't it?"

"Your aunt's already lined something up for you. There's a cheap place on the west side of town, four hundred a month."

"You and your mom move over there, and the money you save can go toward your cousin's wedding..."

I had to hand it to them. Shameless to this degree, you could turn it into a web drama and it would blow up.

"No need."

I pushed my mother toward the bedroom.

Not one word was worth wasting on them.

Duke flicked his cigarette butt to the floor, ground it under his shoe, and pounded the door.

"Bella Summers! I know you're in there!"

"Open up! I brought the transfer papers, don't hold up my wedding!"

Julia's voice stoked it higher.

"Sis, you're his aunt. Your nephew's getting married, you can't really refuse to give him so much as a nest, can you?"

"A four-hundred-dollar place is plenty for you. A big place like this, no point keeping it..."

I stood with my back against the door.

"Get out!"

"I've called the cops!"

My mother's eyes were red, the tears held back inside them.

My phone buzzed.

It was my dad.

"Saw the news. Is your mom okay?"

At the top of the message thread I could see "typing," flickering on and on, like he didn't know what to say.

I handed the phone to my mother.

She looked at the screen, her fingers trembling faintly.

At the divorce, my dad had walked out with nothing, hadn't asked for a thing.

She typed a few words, then deleted them.

In the end she sent only three:

"I'm all right."

How could she be all right?

Outside, Duke started kicking the door.

"Mom."

I said it plainly. "Let's go."

"Go? Go where?"

I took the document envelope down from the top of the closet.

Two plane tickets to Cresthaven.

And an employment contract.

An offer from a well-known law firm in Cresthaven.

"When did you..."

My mother stared at the papers, stunned.

"Ever since we came out of the new house, I started getting it ready."

The door shuddered under the blows, and downstairs a neighbor had had enough, shouting "what's all the racket."

I looked at my mother.

"There's nothing here worth holding on to anymore."

"The house, the relatives, that news story, leave it all here."

"We'll go live somewhere else."

The cursing outside got uglier, and Julia started calling us "ungrateful wretch."

My mother walked over and dug an old photo out of the coffee table drawer.

In it was my grandmother as a young woman, holding my mother at two years old, her whole face soft and kind with a smile.

She set the photo down on the coffee table and turned around.

"Let's go."

She took nothing.

Just a small bag with the little savings she'd put by over the years and her ID.

Duke and the rest were finally talked away by building management, after neighbors who'd had enough of them made the call.

Once the stairwell went quiet, I took my mother's hand and we got into a cab.

On the way to the airport, my mother leaned against the window.

"Hailey."

"Am I too much of a coward?"

"No."

I watched the complex gate shrink in the rearview mirror.

"You just endured too much."

She took my hand.

"No more enduring, from now on."

3: 3

The moment we touched down at Cresthaven Airport, a warm, damp wind hit my face.

There was honeysuckle in the air, mixed with the smell of hot pot.

My mother lifted her head and looked at the sky.

The southern sky was different from up north, a clearer blue, the clouds hanging low, close enough to touch.

"It's so warm here."

She said it as she pulled off her jacket and draped it over her arm.

I nodded.

"This place stays warm all year round."

The apartment we rented was on the edge of Cresthaven, an old complex, but clean, and that was what mattered.

I started at the law firm. Life was full and good.

After resting for a while, my mother found a domestic services company that suited her.

Her overseas rsum was strong, fluent in a foreign language, able to care for the elderly and mind children, able to cook both Western food and home cooking.

The head of the training department read her rsum and made her a training instructor.

That first month we were both slammed.

By day I combed through case files, drafted documents, ran to court with the attorney supervising me, and by night I came home so tired I dropped straight into sleep.

My mother could outlast me. Every day it was either hands-on training or fussing over her lesson plans.

On the weekend, she said she wanted skewers.

There was a barbecue stall in the alley downstairs, the skewers sizzling and dripping fat.

We ordered lamb skewers, chicken wings, grilled eggplant, and sat on low plastic stools to eat.

At the next table sat a few young people, drinking beer and playing drinking games, laughing loud enough to fill the whole alley.

Halfway through eating, my mother suddenly laughed.

"What's funny?"

"I was thinking about when you were little."

She set down her skewer.

"One summer, your grandmother took your uncle and his family to the beach. She didn't take us."

"Your dad came home from work and took the two of us to a roadside stall."

"You were five then, ate your skewers with sauce all over your face."

"Your dad kept wiping at it with a napkin and couldn't get it clean no matter how long he tried."

She was laughing, and then her voice changed.

"Your dad was still young back then. His hair hadn't gone gray yet."

I looked down and bit into a lamb skewer, and the chili powder caught in my throat.

We could have had a happy life. We really could have.

On the way home we passed a square where a group of older women were dancing.

My mother stopped to watch, and copied the moves along with them for a good ten minutes.

On the way back she said to me,

"You know, when I was little I wanted so badly to learn to dance."

"Your grandmother said dancing girls weren't decent girls, and wouldn't let me."

I laughed.

"It's not too late to dance now."

She nodded, thought about it.

"Maybe I'll sign up for a class."

A year later, we moved. Into the city center, bright windows, clean floors.

Because my mother's reputation had taken off.

One day she suddenly asked me, what if she tried opening a company that did high-end domestic services?

I laughed.

"Sure. Then I'll be your legal counsel."

We took out a startup loan, and on the day we registered, my mother looked at the photocopy of the business license.

"That's my name on it."

"That old apartment, the title was in my name too, mine alone. But I never lived in it a single day."

I took her hand.

"This time it will be different."

The company set up in a block of old office buildings, with a stand of banyan trees outside the window.

My mother arranged the office herself, bought green plants, brewed flower tea.

That night I was scrolling my social media feed and came across a post from my aunt Julia.

The photo was of my cousin Duke Summers picking out dcor at a wedding planning company, with a caption that read:

"Some irresponsible relatives just brushed themselves off and ran, but our Duke has real backbone, he can pull off his own wedding on his own."

The next post was inspirational fluff my uncle had reshared, titled:

"When Siblings Aren't United, the Family Falls Apart."

My aunt had posted a long voice message in the family group chat.

The gist was that my mother was an ungrateful traitor, that she'd left her own dying mother behind and run off with the money.

I deleted both Julia and Nathan.

From now on I'd never see anything they posted, and when they came begging, they wouldn't be able to find me.

Down in the alley the barbecue stall was still busy, the smoke and warmth of it drifting up the stairwell.

My mother was in the living room watching a variety show, laughing out loud.

From tonight on, the leeches could fend for themselves.

4: 4

The day of my grandmother's seventieth birthday arrived.

In the old days, when my mom was working abroad, she would call to wish her a happy birthday and cover the entire cost of the banquet on top of it.

But today, my mom was quiet. She made me a big pot of spicy stir-fry.

She'd just taken off her apron and picked up her chopsticks with me when a string of numbers lit up the phone.

Grandma. How had they even found the number?

I didn't let my mom answer. I swiped it open myself and put it on speaker.

"Bella Summers!"

Grandma's voice came roaring through:

"Where the hell did you disappear to! Do you even have a mother anymore in your eyes!"

That fear crept back into my mom's eyes.

My voice went cold.

"Is there something you need."

"You don't get to talk, you worthless girl!"

"Where's your mother? Put her on!"

Grandma kept shouting:

"Today is my seventieth birthday!"

"The whole family's here! Tell your mom to get back here now, and your family is paying the bill for this banquet!"

"We're at that restaurant on the south side of town."

That place on the south side?

Two thousand a table, minimum.

Their whole lives, they'd treated my mom like a blood bag to feed off.

Never realizing a blood bag runs dry one day.

I walked to the living room window and looked out at a stretch of banyan crowns.

"She's not coming back."

"What do you mean, not coming back?"

Grandma clearly hadn't seen that coming.

"Your mother came out of me! I'm having my seventieth and she won't show? You ungrateful piece of trash!"

I answered:

"We've settled down in the south."

The line went silent.

Then I heard my aunt Julia's voice squeeze in from the side:

"The south? What south? Where would Bella get that kind of money?"

"Isn't she renting? You'd better look into it, maybe she's latched onto some man again"

"Julia."

I cut her off:

"Show some respect. My mom isn't useless like you."

"My mom has a job."

"A job?"

Julia laughed:

"Still cleaning houses, I'll bet?"

"Well, good for her. Might as well work hard while she's still young, put it toward a house for your cousin's kid."

"Right, when are you two coming back? We couldn't reach you, we've been worried sick."

"The bride's side is pushing to add the name, so tell your mom to take leave and come back now!"

"The birthday, the title transfer, we'll get it all done at once!"

Worried sick?

Worried the blood bag was gone, more like.

I laughed too:

"My mom isn't coming back for the birthday, and she isn't giving the Summers family another cent."

Dead silence again on the other end.

Then I heard a huge crash, something getting flipped over.

Porcelain shattering, bowls and chopsticks hitting the floor, chair legs screeching against it.

"Where's Bella!"

My aunt's voice cracked:

"You get your mother here!"

"What about Duke! That house"

I only smiled wider.

"The house isn't yours."

"What did you say?! That's the Summers family's"

"The title lists my mom's name, and hers alone."

"That waiver she signed was signed under coercion. It holds no legal weight."

I said it, cheerful as anything:

"Don't you worry. Not in this lifetime will the bride's name ever go on it."

Then I hung up.

The phone rang again. I put it straight on silent.

My mom looked at me, something complicated in her eyes.

"That house, it's still mine?"

"Mm."

That was eight years of my mom's blood and sweat. Why on earth would we hand it to them?

I took a big bite of the spicy stir-fry, hissing through the heat.

"Whenever you want to go back, we'll go back."

"And even if we never do, I'd feed it to the dogs before I'd give it to them."

My mom finally let out a breath.

"You're right."

She took a bite of the stir-fry too.

"I stopped owing them anything a long time ago."

By now my mom's domestic services company was doing better and better, a 4.9 rating online.

We were strong enough now.

After a while, messages started dropping in one after another.

A distant cousin sent a message, asking carefully:

"Hailey, did you know your grandma's in the hospital?"

"Sudden stroke. They're saying you and your mom drove her to it."

"Your aunt had a huge blowup with your uncle at the hospital, said he was too useless to hold on to a cash cow like your mom"

"And back at the hotel it was total chaos, nobody even settled the bill"

From here on out, the real show was finally about to begin.