Chapter 2

The "Uncle Tom" routine continued. It became my small, daily act of rebellion.

"Lily, say hi to Uncle Tom," I' d say cheerfully when he walked in the door.

"Time for your bath, sweetie. Let' s go see if Uncle Tom is hogging the TV."

Each time, I saw that flash of anger in his eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He hated it, but he couldn' t call me out on it without admitting why the title fit so perfectly. He was a guest in this family, not a participant.

His solution wasn' t to change his behavior, but to call in reinforcements. One Saturday afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was his mother, Eleanor Anderson. She swept into the house, wearing a pearl necklace and a look of deep disapproval. My mother, ever polite, offered her coffee. Eleanor ignored her and marched right over to me, where I was burping Lily.

"Sarah, we need to have a word," she said, her voice sharp and commanding.

Tom hovered behind her, looking smug. This was his doing.

"Eleanor, what a surprise," I said, my tone dripping with false sweetness.

"I' ll get right to it," she began, not bothering with pleasantries. "Tom tells me you' ve been making your daughter call him 'Uncle.' What is that about? Are you trying to poison your child against her own father? Trying to make him look like some live-in boyfriend you' re not serious about?"

I settled Lily on my shoulder and looked Eleanor straight in the eye.

"Well, Eleanor, does a father watch his wife go through a difficult C-section and then immediately demand she pay for the extra cost because it was her body that 'failed' ?"

Eleanor' s perfectly powdered face faltered for a second. "He told me about your little arrangement. Financial independence is very important for a woman."

"Is it?" I countered, my voice dangerously calm. "Does a father live rent-free in his in-laws' home for over a month, eat their food, use their electricity, and not contribute a single dollar? Does a father send his wife itemized bills for diaper cream while her parents are the ones buying all the groceries he eats? Because if that' s what a father does, then I guess I' m mistaken. But to me, that sounds more like a freeloader. An uncle, at best."

Every word was a bullet, and I watched them hit their mark. Tom shifted uncomfortably. Eleanor' s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. My mother, who had been quietly listening from the kitchen doorway, had a look of fierce pride on her face.

The facts were undeniable. Tom hadn' t paid for a thing beyond his spreadsheet-approved 50% of baby gear. He hadn't cooked a meal, washed a dish, or done a load of laundry since we' d arrived. My parents had borne the entire burden of housing and feeding the three of us, and I had borne the entire burden of caring for Lily.

Eleanor, seeing she was losing the argument, changed her tactic. She softened her expression, attempting a look of grandmotherly concern.

"Well, perhaps you' re just overwhelmed, dear," she said, her voice now syrupy. "A new baby is a lot to handle. Tom is busy with his career, trying to get that promotion. He' s doing it for you, you know. For the family."

I almost laughed. "The only thing Tom is doing for this family is tracking his expenses."

"Fine," Eleanor said with an exasperated sigh, seeing her manipulation wasn' t working. "If you' re so desperate for help, I' ll step in. I will move in and help you with Lily. That way, Tom can focus on his work, and you can' t complain about being alone."

Tom immediately jumped on the idea. "That' s perfect, Mom! See, Sarah? My mom is willing to help. Now you have no reason to be so hostile."

A triumphant smirk played on Eleanor' s lips. She thought she had me cornered. She would move in, take over, and report my every move back to Tom. I could see the whole plan laid out in her condescending eyes.

"That' s a very generous offer, Eleanor," I said slowly, a new idea forming in my mind.

Her smile widened. "Of course. I' ll go pack a bag. I can be here by tomorrow morning."

As she and Tom were congratulating themselves in the entryway, she turned back to me. "Of course, you understand that my time is valuable. I can' t just do this for free. I have my own expenses. I' ll need a fee for my services. Let' s say… two thousand a month? That seems fair for a live-in nanny."

Tom nodded vigorously. "That' s a great deal, Sarah. Way cheaper than hiring a stranger."

The audacity was breathtaking. They wanted me to pay Tom' s mother to live in my parents' house for free and help with a grandchild she had, until this moment, shown zero interest in. They were trying to turn her "help" into another financial burden, on me.

I met Eleanor' s greedy gaze with a placid smile.

"Of course," I said. "That' s perfectly reasonable. It' s all about being 'active and accountable,' right? Since we' re putting a price on everything, I' ll just draw up a detailed expense sheet. That way, we can be perfectly clear on all the costs involved. I' ll have it ready for you tomorrow when you arrive."

The triumphant looks on their faces wavered, replaced by a hint of confusion and suspicion. They didn' t know what I was planning, but they knew I had just agreed far too easily.