Elsie forced a cheerful expression and headed upstairs. Yes, it bothered her to be treated like a maid, but she preferred it over Jane’s role, which was to sit and listen to their mother gossip and complain for hours on end.
They were lucky to get off with a daily morning visit, considering they only lived three houses down from their parents and her mom needed constant attention. Her dad was the one living with chronic pain, but he wasn’t the one mooning around the house, wringing his hands.
Elsie glanced out the bathroom window, looking down on the backyard where her dad was standing there with his walker, adding water to his bird fountain with a hose. Weather permitting, that’s always where he could be found, finding an excuse to do something outside. Every year on his birthday, Elsie gifted him with another reason to hide out there. The barometer last year. The hummingbird feeder the year before.
The toilet seemed okay, but the counter was a mess, covered in toothpaste marks and bottles of hair product. This was Lydia and Kat’s bathroom. They should be taking care of it. But they were rarely home these days. Just long enough to make a mess before heading off on Lydia’s quest to chase stardom.
Elsie took the stairs two at a time and jumped for a final landing on the tile below.
“Elsie, don’t clunk down the stairs like that. It’s very unbecoming to men.”
Elsie grinned at her mom. “I’ll make sure to remember that next time there’s a single guy over here.”
“You should. Lydia brings them home in spades. Last week she had a poker tournament here and the whole house was filled. She won fifty dollars. It’s those acting skills, I tell you.”
A thousand different cutting remarks filtered through Elsie’s head, but she decided not to say any of them. Maybe she’d treat herself to ice cream later. “Where is Lydia?”
“Another audition. She and Kat took a road trip to L.A. They’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Where are they staying tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know. With friends, I suppose. She has my credit card if they need a hotel. I told her to pick a nice one. No sense in staying somewhere cheap.”
A headache started as she walked to the window to escape her mother’s smug and oblivious smile. There was no money for things like that. There was no money for live-in help, which might become a necessity in the coming years. Even with her dad’s disability insurance, the monthly payments only covered the basics, and the policy ran out at age sixty-five. Ten years seemed like a long time to prepare for that, but was it really?
Once again she felt guilty for pursuing her T-shirt business with Jane instead of doing something practical and financially secure with her graphic design degree. She was twenty-six. Maybe it was time to stop dreaming and get a steady job.
Elsie walked out and grabbed the vacuum from the hall closet and headed straight for the office. She vacuumed with one hand while signing into her parent’s bank account with the other. Their passwords were laughably simple. Elsie had thought about suggesting they change them, but it was easier to keep up the pretense that she didn’t meddle.
Their balance was even lower than last month. Five-hundred dollars left and they hadn’t paid the credit card yet. She opened another screen and signed into their credit card account. “Forty-five hundred dollars!”
Good thing the vacuum drowned out her swearing. Restaurants, pedicures, boutique clothing stores. They all had one thing in common: Lydia. And now she had Kat taking up the same habits. At least practical Mary had a full ride scholarship to UCLA.
Elsie shut down the computer and dragged the vacuum out of the room, hitting the door frame on her way out. Her mother glanced up, looking irritated when she stomped into the room and dropped the appliance with a clunk, letting the handle fall to the floor.
“What is it, Elsie?”
“You can’t let Lydia use your credit card anymore. She needs an allowance. Or better yet, she should get a job and stop mooching off you altogether. She’s eighteen now. She should open up her own credit card and max it out.”
Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “Lydia is so talented. One of these days she’s going to make it big and then she’ll be the one paying for us. I don’t mind helping her out a bit now.”
Elsie put her face in her hands. She couldn’t tell her mother what she really thought, that Lydia was not talented, and didn’t have the work ethic or connections to make up for that fact. “It’s not a good idea. You guys don’t have the money to let her keep doing this.”
“Talk to your father about it. It’s his decision.”
Elsie’s shoulders dropped. She didn’t like to stress him out with things like this, but it would have to be done. Her mother might be hoping she’d give up, but Elsie’s stubborn streak was stronger than her mother’s diversionary tricks.
She turned and headed straight to the backyard. “Dad?”
He was done with the fountain, and she found him under the citrus trees with his fruit picker, a tool she’d bought him last Christmas. On good days, he could hold up the long handle and pick an orange or two.
“Would you mind getting the higher fruit?” he asked.
She took the tool and angled it up into the branches, picking oranges and mulling over the best way to broach the unpleasant subject. Better to get it over with.
“Dad, Lydia shouldn’t have access to your credit card. She’s spending more than you and Mom have.”
He harrumphed in a non-answering way. “Talk to your mother about it.”
