So I called Karen.
She picked up on the third dial.
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my hand hurt.
I said, very evenly, “Why did you leave my mother alone with a $2,300 bill?”
She didn’t even pretend not to understand.
“Oh,” she said. “Is she upset?”
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my hand hurt. “You invited her. You said you were treating her.”
Karen let out this little laugh. “We’re family. It won’t kill her to contribute.”
“Contribute?” I said. “She had a salad and water.”
Karen’s voice went cold.
“Then her portion was cheap.”
I almost missed a light.
“You chose the restaurant. You ordered the wine. You ordered the lobster. You ordered dessert.”
Karen’s voice went cold. “Your mother sat at the table. Your mother enjoyed the evening. Now your mother can act like an adult and handle a bill.”
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