Chapter 2 - The Breakfast Boundary
At six o’clock the next morning, I served breakfast on paper plates. Each plate held two boiled eggs and two pieces of plain toast. The coffee was black. There was no butter, no jam, no bacon, no fried potatoes, and nothing remotely luxurious. It was not the breakfast I normally made. It was the breakfast Madison had requested—strictly non-greasy. Madison entered the kitchen staring at her phone, her hair unbrushed but looking meticulously tousled. She stopped at the kitchen island and stared at the paper plate. “What is this?” “Breakfast.” She lifted one corner of the toast with her fingernail. “Dad told you I eat protein pancakes.” Across the kitchen, Robert tightened the belt of his robe and became deeply interested in the coffeemaker. I looked at Madison. “You wrote ‘no greasy food’ on your list. None of this is greasy.” Evan wandered in behind her. His T-shirt was wrinkled, his eyes red from lack of sleep. “Where’s the oat milk?” he asked. “In the refrigerator.”
Madison frowned at me. “You’re supposed to pour it for him.” I smiled. It was the same calm smile I had worn the night before. I placed a second sheet of paper on the kitchen island. Madison glanced at it. “What’s that?” “My list.” Robert finally looked at me as I turned the page so all three of them could read it. “House rules,” I said. “Rent is due every Friday.
Two adults will pay two thousand dollars per month. Utilities are divided three ways. Everyone handles their own laundry. Cooking rotates. No one enters my office, my bedroom, or the private pantry. Any stay longer than seven days requires formal approval from both property owners.” Madison laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh.
“You can’t charge us rent. This is Dad’s house.”
“No,” I said. “It is our house.”
She turned toward Robert. “Dad?”
“Laura,” he muttered, “don’t start this first thing in the morning.”
May you like
“I didn’t start it.” I opened the drawer beside the stove and removed a thick folder containing the deed, mortgage records, closing documents, and our prenuptial agreement.
I placed the documents beside her untouched eggs. “Your father did not buy this house by himself,” I said. “My name is on the deed. My name is on the mortgage. He does not have the authority to move anyone in without my agreement.” Robert’s face lost its color. Madison looked from the paperwork to him. “Laura, can we discuss this privately?” Robert pleaded. “We had all night to discuss it. I was informed that two people were moving into my home and then handed a chore list. Anger was appropriate.” Evan picked up my rules. “You’re serious about two thousand a month?” “Yes.” “We don’t have that kind of money.” “Then you cannot afford to live here.” Madison folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. "We're not leaving."
