At Christmas dinner, my sister and I argued until my mom suddenly turned on me and shouted, “You are a leech. My money is not for you.” Then she pointed toward my five-year-old daughter and called her a burden. My husband took my hand and said, “Let’s go.” The next morning, Dad called about the house.

Dad laughed.

Then he looked toward me.

“For what it’s worth, she didn’t leave you that account because you were her favorite.”

“I know.”

“She left it to you because she trusted what you would do with it.”

I looked through the window at Lily trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

Part of that money had helped Dad protect his employees’ paychecks years earlier.

Part of it had helped us purchase the house.

Most of what remained was still invested for our future.

I didn’t feel any need to defend it.

The doorbell rang.

Lauren called from the hallway.

“Emily, your daughter says I’m not allowed inside unless I know the password.”

“What’s the password?”

Lily shouted, “I forgot!”

Everyone laughed.

I opened the door.

And for once, nobody around the table owed anyone an explanation.