“I think we should look into a nursing home,” Juliet said.

“No! Absolutely not!” I said.

“Mom does eighty-five percent of the work, Sadie. She’s seventy years old.”

“I’m not exactly dead yet,” Mom said.

“You’re getting worn out, Mom.”

“I just sent you two to a spa for a rest!” I said, knowing it was ridiculous.

“Two nights isn’t going to be enough, unless it’s two nights a week, Sadie,” Jules said. She looked at our mother. “I’m worried about you. Insurance would cover—”

“Would cover a shithole, Juliet!”

“Keep your voice down,” she said. “Oliver and I can help.”

“Juliet, you’re starting your own firm, honey. You keep your money. Sadie’s right. This is my responsibility, and with a little help from the visiting nurses and such, your father and I will be okay.”

I glared at my sister. She’d put Dad in a kennel if I let her.

“What?” she snapped. “I don’t see you making plans to stay here permanently. You want Dad cared for, maybe you have to do more than come over and paint and let your dog watch TV with him.”

“That’s not fair. I’ve done everything I can for him. God forbid you interrupt your perfect life—”

“That’s enough, girls,” Caro and Mom said in unison, then smiled at each other. I pressed my lips together and tried not to cry.

“The truth is, you’re both right,” Mom said. “I can’t see putting him into a nursing home when all he needs is . . . well, a keeper. And yes, I’m tired. It hasn’t been easy.”

“In sickness and in health,” I said.

“Exactly,” Mom said.

“Fuck you, Sadie,” Juliet said.

“Wow! Angry much, Jules? You know he’d take care of her if the situation were reversed.”

“You’re an idiot. And you don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, this has been wonderful,” Mom said. “Now, both of you get home. You’re upsetting me.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Jules said. “But if she knew . . .”

“If I knew what?”

“How hard it is for our mother,” Jules ground out. “Getting him in and out of bed, showered, shaved, dressed, making sure there’s enough food in the house, paying the bills, working more than a full-time job, checking in on him on her lunch hour or on the app—”

“Mom,” I interrupted. “I know how devoted you are. And I admire you for it. I really do.”

“Well, thanks, now, hon. It’s still time for you both to get on home. Sadie, your dog is curled up with your dad, why don’t you just leave her here tonight? Juliet, honey, I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. Caro, want to stay for a glass of wine?”

My sister and I were dismissed. We went outside, giving each other plenty of space.

“How’s my car, by the way?” she asked.