Jacqueline flushed, but her resolve remained firm. “It’s a collector’s item! Jean is so young, she won’t even remember it. With the money, I could buy her a dozen bikes.”

Anger simmered beneath my skin. “This isn’t just about the physical bike, Jacqueline. It’s about the sentiment, the memory you’re taking from her.”

But Jacqueline was set on her course and proceeded to load the bike into her car, completely disregarding my pleas and Jean’s disappointment. The sound of the car door slamming shut felt like a definitive end to a fragile truce we’d managed to maintain over the years.