Chapter 3 - The Spare KeyThe next week, I began moving in.
My best friend, Tasha, helped me unpack the kitchen while I told her about my family’s visit.
“They assigned themselves rooms?” she asked.
“They called it planning.”
“That’s not planning. That’s a peaceful invasion.”
I laughed, but the situation no longer felt funny.
Three days after the visit, Mother called and apologized.
At least, she used the word apology.
“I’m sorry you misunderstood our excitement,” she said.
“I didn’t misunderstand.”
“We were only trying to support you.”
“By moving Brooke into my house?”
“She’s struggling.”
“She has always been struggling.”
“That’s why she needs family.”
I set down the plate I was holding.
“I have given Brooke money six times in three years.”
“And she appreciates it.”
“She never repaid me.”
“Families don’t keep accounts.”
“Then why does everyone remember exactly what I supposedly owe?”
Mother changed the subject.
She asked whether I would attend Father’s birthday dinner the following Friday. I agreed because I was not ready to cut them off completely.
At the dinner, they behaved normally.
Brooke discussed her business plans but did not mention my house. Father asked about my job. Mother ordered a cake and insisted we take photographs together.
For one evening, I wondered whether I had overreacted.
When I prepared to leave, Mother followed me to the driveway.
“Your purse is open,” she said.
I looked down.
While I adjusted the strap, she hugged me.
The gesture surprised me.
Mother rarely initiated affection unless someone was watching.
“Drive safely,” she said.
Two days later, I realized the spare key was missing.
I had kept it inside a small zippered pocket in my purse.
At first, I assumed it had fallen out during the move. I checked every box, drawer, and car compartment.
Nothing.
Then I remembered Mother’s hug.
I called her.
“Did you take the spare key from my purse?”
She laughed too quickly.
“Why would I do that?”
“It disappeared after Dad’s birthday dinner.”
“You probably lost it.”
“The pocket was zipped.”
“Are you accusing your own mother of stealing?”
“I’m asking a question.”
She became offended, which had always been her preferred method of avoiding an answer.
“I cannot believe what owning a house has done to you.”
The call ended without an explanation.
I told myself to replace the locks immediately.
But work became hectic. My company was preparing for an audit, and I spent three consecutive nights at the office.
On Thursday morning, a neighbor named Mrs. Alvarez stopped me while I was taking out the trash.
“You had visitors yesterday,” she said.
“I did?”
“A blonde woman and an older couple. I thought they were your relatives.”
My stomach tightened.
“What time?”
“Around eleven. They stayed for almost two hours.”
I had been at work.
I opened the front door and examined the entryway.
Nothing seemed disturbed.
Upstairs, however, the largest guest room window was open.
I always kept it closed because the air-conditioning was running.
In the closet, I found three empty plastic storage bins that had not belonged to me.
A furniture catalog lay on the floor.
Several pages were folded.
On the bedroom wall, someone had placed a small pencil mark beside the doorframe, indicating the height of a cabinet.
I called Brooke.
She answered cheerfully.
“What?”
“Were you in my house yesterday?”
Silence.
Then she said, “Mom needed to use the bathroom.”
“For two hours?”
“We were in the neighborhood.”
“You live nearly two hours away.”
“Why are you interrogating me?”
“Because you entered my house without permission.”
“Mom had a key.”
“She was not supposed to have one.”
“That’s between you and her.”
“No, Brooke. It’s between me and everyone who trespassed.”
She laughed.
“Trespassed? Listen to yourself.”
“Do not enter my house again.”
“You’re seriously threatening your family over a key?”
“I am establishing a boundary.”
“Whatever.”
She hung up.
That afternoon, I ordered four security cameras, a video doorbell, and motion sensors for the doors and windows.
I also contacted a locksmith.
He could not come until Monday.
May you like
I hated waiting, but I believed one firm warning would be enough to keep my family away for four days.
I was wrong.
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