Annoyed

Mother,
 So you are back! And yes of course I am annoyed. Your last missive told me of the painting in the hall and then nothing. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me of the confirmation of the painting's worth. To just up and go to spend some of your sudden gains in the Bahamas without so much as goodbye hurt to say the least. As your only son I would have thought it would have been at the very least polite to tell me of your sudden plans. I have worried about you. Further enquiries led me to believe you hasd been kidnapped, or worse. I was ready to call the police. If it had not been for your postcard...
To sneak off like you did makes me feel....I don't know I'm lost for words. I feel now that I have to make somekind of declaration that I have no interest in your money, as that is how you have made me feel. Like a thief in the night. A gold-digger. I am mother very, very upset, nay angry, that you chose to leave me out of your celebrations.
As far as I am concerned you can buy your Aston Martin. You can hire as many damn staff as you damn well like. For the moment Mother I would prefer if you would not contact me. The very thought that I am considered by my own flesh and blood, my only mother to be a taudry money-chaser (for that is the impression you give) hurts so.

A