“We sold your empty house and split the money,” my mother announced at the family reunion, casual as breathing. “You’re never even there.” My father added with a smirk, “Think of it as your contribution to the family.” I glanced at my watch — right as the U.S. Marshals walked up the hill holding seizure warrants. The text came at 2 a.m. while I was in a Seattle hotel room halfway through a field assignment. Mom: Finally did something about that house of yours. You’re welcome. I stared at the mes