You can give and give, thinking you’re building something together until you realize you were just being used. I gave my husband and his mother my time, money, and every ounce of trust to build a house. When they tried to take the house away from me, I made sure they didn’t forget who helped build it.
I’m Erin. At 32, I’ve worked two jobs, skipped vacations, and spent three years living with my mother-in-law so my husband and I could build a future. Well, a future that just got ripped out from under me by the woman I’d called “Mom” for three years.
The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window as I sat across from Lorraine, watching her fingers dance across the spreadsheets on her tablet. “I’ve been crunching these numbers all weekend,” she began, her voice carrying that familiar tone of authority. “The upstairs renovation is going to cost us far more than we anticipated.”
My coffee mug froze halfway to my lips.
“How much more?”
“Enough that we’ll have to postpone it indefinitely. I’m sorry, dear, but that’s just how it has to be.”
The words hit me like ice water. “But Lorraine, Caleb and I’ve been saving for months.
We calculated everything. The second floor was supposed to be…”
“Supposed to be what?” Her eyebrows arched. “Erin, sweetheart, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I set my mug down carefully.
“You promised us that space. We’ve been planning our future up there. The nursery, the office…”
“Oh, honey.” She patted my hand like I was a confused child.
“I said I’d consider it. But this is still my house. I paid for it.
I hold the deed… and I make the decisions.”
“We built this place together, Lorraine. Do you remember when we laid the tiles in the bathroom?
Or when I painted the entire downstairs by myself?”
Lorraine laughed. “Painting a few walls doesn’t make you a homeowner, dear! You contributed some pocket change.
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