The next morning, I called Lisa first. “Your mom is not happy,” she said. “I figured,” I sighed. “I just can’t do it this year.” She paused. “Then let me handle it. I’ll host.” I blinked. “Really?” She laughed. “I’ve got the space, and honestly… it might even be fun. We can mix things up.”
I felt a weight lift. “What about Mom?” “She’ll survive,” Lisa said. “Or she won’t. Either way, you need a break.”
