I sat across from him. “Because I have a job, Caleb.”

“I know you have a job.”

“You keep forgetting that when it’s convenient.”

He frowned, and I reminded him that the week before, I had left a meeting to pick Miles up when he had a fever. Paige had been at an interview, and Caleb had been working. I had been working too.

“When Sadie forgot her science project, I drove it to school. When Miles needed a costume for spirit day, I made sure he had one. When Paige had a phone interview, I rearranged my afternoon so she could have a quiet house.”

Caleb looked away. “Nobody forced you to do those things.”

The words landed harder than he seemed to expect.

“Helping is temporary,” I said. “It’s something I choose.”

“Fine. What do you want us to do? Tell Paige she can’t take the job?”

“I want you to acknowledge that adding two children to our household for eight weeks is a decision that involves me.”

“She’s my sister.”

“And they’re her children.”

He didn’t answer.

I leaned forward. “Who’s taking them to school?”

“We’ll work that out.”

“Who’s picking them up?”

“You’re already home in the afternoons.”

I stared at him. Our son didn’t come home until five-thirty because he stayed in aftercare while I finished work.

“You want to change Owen’s schedule so I can watch all three children while I’m supposed to be working?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and tilted the screen away.

“What did Paige ask?”

“Nothing important.”

“Caleb.”

He exhaled. “She wants to know if we’re okay.”

I stood. “Tell her we aren’t.”

As I headed for the stairs, he said, “You’re being unfair. She’s scared.”

I stopped. “So am I.”

I hadn’t meant to say it, but once the words were out, I couldn’t take them back.

“I’m scared because every time someone in your family needs something, you assume I’ll rearrange my life. Then, when I try to explain why it isn’t easy, you act like I don’t love them.”

His expression softened. “Nora—”

“I love those kids. That isn’t the problem.”

I went upstairs and opened my laptop to finish the work I had missed that afternoon. My supervisor had sent a reminder about a major client review the following week. Attendance was required. I looked at the meetings and deadlines on my calendar, then thought about Caleb casually suggesting that I change Owen’s aftercare schedule. He hadn’t asked when my meetings were or what I needed to finish. He had already decided my afternoons were available.

That worried me more than the suitcase.

The Name on the Form

The school called the next morning while I was reviewing a compliance report.

“Good morning. Is this Nora Bennett?”

“Yes.”

The woman introduced herself as Mrs. Carter from the elementary school office and said she wanted to confirm contact information for Sadie and Miles. I sat up straighter.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, ma’am. Everyone’s fine. We received an updated contact form from their mother yesterday, and since she’ll be out of state for an extended period, we wanted to make sure the information was correct.”

I closed my laptop halfway. “Updated contact form?”

Mrs. Carter explained that I was listed as the preferred local emergency contact during Paige’s absence, ahead of Caleb.

“Mrs. Carter, no one asked me about that.”

She paused. “Oh, I see.”

The form didn’t make me their legal guardian or require me to provide childcare, but it did tell the school to call me first. Paige had included her out-of-state job and updated the children’s pickup information without speaking to me.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Carter said. “We understood you were helping the family during the transition.”

“I have been, but I haven’t agreed to be their primary caregiver.”

She said they could ask Paige to correct the contact order. I thanked her and ended the call.

Paige was at the kitchen island with her laptop open. I went downstairs.

“Did you give the school my information?”

She looked up. “You’re already on their emergency contact list.”

“Did you change it yesterday?”

Her expression shifted. “Caleb helped me.”

“Did you list me as the first person they should call while you’re in Colorado?”

“Well, yes. You’re closest.”

“I’m at work during the day.”

She seemed genuinely confused. “You’re here, though.”

I took a breath. “If Miles gets sick, somebody has to pick him up. His parent needs to arrange that somebody.”

“I thought you’d want the school to call you instead of letting one of them sit there waiting.”

“Of course I don’t want them waiting. But you keep talking as though I agreed to something I haven’t.”

Her eyes filled again. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Ask me.”

She looked down. “Caleb said you wouldn’t mind.”

That sentence stayed with me. Caleb said you wouldn’t mind. Not that I had offered, not that I had agreed—only that he had decided for me.

I called my husband upstairs. When he answered, I asked why my name was listed first on the school form.

“Did the school call?”

“Yes. Why did you put my name there?”

“It’s just paperwork, Nora. Someone local has to be reachable.”

“You work fifteen minutes from the school.”

“Twenty-five with traffic, and I can’t just leave the warehouse in the middle of a shift.”

“But I can leave my job?”

“You’re home.”

There it was again, as though working from home meant my work counted less.

I told him about the client presentation I had spent the month preparing. He said I didn’t have to pick the children up that Thursday, and I tried to explain that the point wasn’t one afternoon; it was that he and Paige had made a plan around my time without asking me.

“Have you arranged after-school care?” I asked.

“We have a plan.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Me and Paige.”

“And what does that plan involve?”

He hesitated. “Everything is already worked out.”

I felt something inside me go cold. “Then send it to me.”

“It’s not that formal.”

“Then tell me exactly what it is.”

He said he would show me after work. I asked him to email it now. Ten minutes later, a link arrived with the subject line: Paige Transition Schedule.

I opened it and saw my name in almost every row.

Ten Weeks on a Spreadsheet

The spreadsheet had eleven tabs: one for general information and ten labeled by week, running from October through December. I opened the first week, expecting a list of suggestions. Instead, Monday began with my name beside breakfast and lunches, then school pickup, homework, snacks, supervision, and dinner.

Tuesday looked much the same. So did Wednesday. Thursday included Sadie’s dentist appointment, and Friday had reminders for laundry and school bags. Under emergency transportation, my name appeared again. Caleb’s name was listed on weekends, mostly for soccer practice, grocery runs, and occasional outings.

I kept scrolling. The schedule included Halloween costumes, parent-teacher conferences, winter clothes, school pictures, and holiday activities. Someone had assigned me to take Miles to his annual checkup, though I had never been to his pediatrician and didn’t know where the office was.

The expenses tab said Paige would contribute toward groceries after her first paycheck. Caleb had noted that costs should remain manageable because childcare would be handled “in-family.” There was no budget for after-school care, a babysitter, or paid help.

Just me.

At the top of the screen, I saw that the file had been created three weeks earlier, before Paige had formally accepted the job. I opened its activity history. Caleb had created the spreadsheet, and Paige had added school dates and appointments. One of Caleb’s notes read: Nora can adjust afternoon work schedule as needed.