Linda appeared behind him, wearing my white bathrobe—the one Mom had given me for my thirtieth birthday. She folded her arms.
“Michael deserves some peace in his own home.”
“His own home?”
Michael muttered, “Mom, stay out of this.”
But Linda never stayed out of anything in her life.
“He lives here,” she said. “He contributes. He is your husband. You don’t get to disappear for fourteen hours a day and then come home acting like you’re some kind of landlord.”
With the dispatcher still listening, I opened my phone’s
