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“Maybe you could help us a little bit. Mom, I’m not asking for charity. It’s just a temporary loan until the business stabilizes.
You could lend us about $20,000 or $30,000, and I promise we’ll pay you back with interest as soon as we can.”
“Patricia,” I said firmly, “that money from the sale of the property is not for lending to anyone. I have my own plans for it.”
The expression on her face changed immediately. The sweet smile disappeared and was replaced by a grimace of disapproval that painfully reminded me of when she was a spoiled child who didn’t get what she wanted.
“What plans, Mom? What are you going to do with so much money at your age? It’s not like you’re going to buy a new house or travel the world.
It would be much smarter to invest that money in something productive—like errands and my business.”
Her words hurt me deeply. “At my age,” I repeated, feeling as if she had slapped me. “You’re telling me that because I’m 64, I no longer have the right to enjoy my own money.”
“No, Mom.
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