It seemed like a perfect practical plan.
I would have my peace, and they would have a stepping stone to their future.
However, temporary quickly turned into an indefinite lifestyle.
Within months, David had taken over my late husband’s study, filling it with expensive gaming computers and custom furniture.
Sarah began hosting weekly dinner parties, filling the driveway with her friend’s cars.
They weren’t saving for a down payment.
They were living a highly inflated lifestyle on my dime.
Because the main house and the cottage were on the same property, all the utilities remained in my name: the high-speed internet, the premium streaming packages, the water, the electricity.
I paid for all of it.
I even left Sarah as an authorized user on one of my premium credit cards for absolute emergencies.
Naturally, those emergencies soon morphed into weekly grocery deliveries, designer clothes, and expensive restaurant tabs.
Whenever I gently brought up the expenses, David would give a patronizing chuckle, brushing me off. Sarah would accuse me of being controlling.
I kept the peace because I didn’t want to lose my daughter.
I allowed myself to become a silent sponsor of their comfortable lives, hoping they would eventually mature.
Sitting in my quiet cottage on New Year’s Eve, I looked around at my modest surroundings.
I had given them my home, my resources, and my endless patience.
In return, I was deemed an embarrassing inconvenience.
I pulled my laptop from the counter, opened it on the kitchen table, and decided it was time to conduct a thorough review of my generosity.
Around noon, I heard the crunch of gravel outside my window.
A large white catering van had backed into the driveway, blocking my small sedan.
Men in matching polo shirts began unloading silver chafing dishes, crates of glasswear, and massive floral arrangements, carrying them through the front doors of the main house.
A few minutes later, my front door opened without a knock.
Sarah stood in the entryway holding a clipboard, looking frantic. She wore a silk loungewear set, her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder.
“Mom, the caterers need to plug in their extra refrigerators in the garage,” she instructed, not bothering to say hello.