She said things to make Emma think she belonged with her. Emma wasn’t duped. Her voice shook at first but strengthened.
“Do you think a dress will make me buy you?” You think you should get this house after leaving me? Grandma took care of me. This is our house, not yours.” The papers were shredded into small fragments.
Melissa became furious. She called Emma ungrateful and warned she would regret remaining with “a dying old woman.” She ran out and slammed the door. Emma clung to me that night.
You’re my family, Grandma. You always were. She wore her homemade blue dress to prom the next night.
She looked stunning at home with loose hair and smudged mascara. “I was the prettiest girl there,” she said. Because of you.”
Not because I was sad, I cried that night.
Many thanks. Melissa returned with greed and falsehoods, but Emma persisted. She picked our years of hard work-earned love, loyalty, and commitment.
At that time, I knew Mark would have been pleased. We still owned the house as a symbol of our struggles and as bricks and mortar. Emma was getting a scholarship to college, and while the future was uncertain, I knew we would always be there for each other.
