Grace pointed at him.
“Tell him to put it back!”
“Put what back?”
Harold brought his hand forward.
I covered my mouth.
“Tell him to put it back!”
He was holding Grace’s guest-room doorknob.
“Harold!” Grace breathed.
“What?”
“PUT THAT BACK!”
“Why?”
“Because that’s my room!”
“PUT THAT BACK!”
Harold glanced toward our bedroom.
The one without a door.
Then back at her.
“In my house?”
Grace flinched.
“I need privacy!”
Harold waited half a second.
“From family?”
“I need privacy!”
I had to turn away.
Not because I was horrified.
Because laughing would have ruined it.
“That is completely different!”
“How, Mom?”
“I’m a guest!”
“And Tina lives here.”
“That is completely different!”
Grace pointed at the doorknob.
“You had no right to touch my door while I was sleeping.”
Harold nodded.
“So you understand the concept.”
“I am your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And mothers deserve respect.”
