I Was Never Their Daughter—Only Their Tool

Since my wealthy sister and her husband were coming home for dinner, my mother, Isabel Anderson, called me last night to remind. "Your brother-in-law loves fresh live snow crab and crayfish. Tell Caleb to go to the market early morning and avoid buying cold storage stock—it lacks freshness."

"And don't just sit around idle. Come over and start stewing the ribs and brisket."

I, eight months pregnant, bustled around busily preparing.

Isabel glanced at the Arkansas black apples I brought in from the living room and said irritably, “You’re not as well-off as Viola, so don’t copy her…