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her class, nabbing a coveted job in public relations right after college, she’s also demonstrated a tremendous lack of commitment to, well, everything and everyone.
    Three months into her PR career, she decided she hated corporate America. She said that trying to sway public opinion about people and products was deceitful and underhanded. After two years of living in her sorority, she simply abandoned her sisters and her membership chairman position and moved into an apartmentoff campus without telling anyone, having grown tired of the whole enterprise.
    When Kelsey was in high school, I was never sure what persona she would adopt from year to year, bouncing effortlessly from “soccer star” to “hip-hop fly girl” to “Lilly Pulitzer–clad class vice president,” although more often than not, these phases related to her boyfriend or circle of friends du jour.
    Let us never speak of the short-lived Bollywood phase, as I have no earthly idea where that originated. (
Slumdog Millionaire,
maybe? Thanks, Redbox.)
    Yet remembering all those damn saris, bindis, and the chapati griddle gathering dust up in the attic is what broke me.
    â€œWhoa, hold on,” I said, with a force that surprised us both. Even Barnaby was startled, but he quickly regained his composure. You don’t last eighteen-plus years by being a nervous Nelson. “No, I’m sorry, you misunderstood. Buying your fiancé a second food truck wasn’t one of the options. You realize that forty-five percent of food truck businesses fail within the first year, yes? And of those on the road, forty-one percent of them currently violate sanitation standards, and they can be shut down at any time. This is not happening. You’re not taking the money I’ve been diligently shepherding
away
from risk for twenty-three years and placing it squarely in harm’s way. You can have a wedding or a down payment on a home. You’re not pissing away your future on a Jesus-themed truck
when you don’t even attend church anymore
. Period.”
    Kelsey sprang out of her seat, eyes damp with tears, arms wrapped protectively around her slight frame. “I should have known I couldn’t count on you! No wonder Daddy didn’t want to stick around.”
    I glanced over at the crystal clock on the corner of my desk, anaward for managing the top-producing practice within my consulting firm for three years in a row. I thought of the weight of the crystal in my hand, the considerable heft of that leaded glass. I imagined for a moment what it might feel like to hurl the clock against the wall, watching the whole thing shatter into pieces, spraying the room with flesh-puncturing shards and bits of the very inner workings that kept the trains running on time, a satisfying burst of springs and wires and components.
    Instead, I took note of the actual time and realized that I needed to make a call before I followed Kelsey down her rabbit hole of emotional blackmail. I steadied myself. “Kelsey, this is a joyful occasion and I truly don’t want to argue with you. That’s not what this is about. I want you to have what you want. We can work this out, but I’m supposed to call a Realtor now, so if you can give me five, then I’m yours for the rest of the afternoon for us to make plans.”
    This was a capitulation on my part and we both knew it, but I tried to play it off like it wasn’t. I needed at least a semblance of being in charge.
    She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why are you calling a Realtor?”
    â€œTo finalize details about listing the house.”
    Her brow furrowed. “But why?”
    I explained, “Everyone’s gone, and Barnaby and I certainly don’t need this many square feet.”
    Plus, I hated being alone in such a big, empty house. I loathed the sound of my sensible heels echoing down the hallway when I’d return from work at night. I abhorred paying to heat