Will pronounced in his angriest voice as Amanda did her best to direct the movers to unload the furniture into their new home. It was another sweltering, humid afternoon, and between the stress of trying to figure out where to put stuff while contemplating her new life and dealing with her belligerent son, Amanda felt at the breaking point. “Will,” she said wearily, “for the hundredth time, please don’t use that word. It’s just so inappropriate.” “It’s totally appropriate!” he said with a snarl. “It’s exactly how I feel, and it’s exactly the truth, which makes it appropriate, and you know it!” Amanda glanced around the house. Okay, so it was only six thousand square feet, and it looked out on a view of other, equally large homes, instead of twelve thousand square feet looking out on the Pacific. She felt a pang of guilt that her son’s sense of values could be so skewed. Granted, she had grown up in a house larger than the Harrington home they were renting, but her values were pretty down to earth.
