doing?”
“Packing enough clothes for a few nights.”
“Where are you going?”
“A hotel.”
He stared at her.
“You’re leaving your own house because Mom touched a thermostat?”
Susan stopped folding a sweater.
“No, Richard. I’m leaving because the thermostat finally made me understand what happens every single time your mother crosses a boundary.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“When she rearranged my father’s photographs, you told me she was trying to help.”
Richard said nothing.
“When she invited twelve relatives here for Thanksgiving without asking me, you said family shouldn’t need permission.”
