"Better?" Daniel asked, his throat tight.
For years, their relationship had been a cycle of late-night worried calls, of Bettie brushing off missed birthdays with a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes, of dimly lit apartments filled with takeout containers and the blue glow of a television left on for company. Her mother, Elaine, had watched from a distance—first with patience, then with quiet pleas, and now, with this.
“Bettie, this is your mother’s last resort: better lifestyle and entertainment.”