Capacity.
Unused resource.
“What do you need it for?” she asked. “It’s just you.”
I let the sentence sit between us.
“Do you know how I found out?”
“She texted you.”
“She sent me a spreadsheet. I was assigned ice.”
Mom waved one hand.
“You know your sister.”
“I do.”
“She organizes. That’s her gift.”
Her gaze moved toward the remodeled kitchen.
“And this is yours.”
My floors.
My savings.
My weekends.
My labor.
My gift.
Naomi’s ability to assign my labor?
Also apparently a gift.
I tried another question.
“If Naomi rented a house from a stranger, would you tell her she could invite fifty-two people into his yard without permission?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“He isn’t family.”
There it was.
Strangers received boundaries.
Family received access.
Mom kissed my cheek when she left.
“See you Sunday.”
“I said no.”
She was already halfway through the doorway.
“You’ll feel better once everyone’s together.”
I watched her drive away.
What Mom did not know was that the cookout had stopped looking like a cookout to me earlier that day.
I had come home from a boundary survey just after lunch.
Naomi was in my backyard.
She had let herself through the side gate.
The latch was old and I had never locked it.
Behind her stood a man with a camera.
Naomi was walking the grass heel to toe with a clipboard.
“Buffet could run here,” she said. “Tables against the fence. Photo area near the oak.”
I stepped onto the patio.
“You’re measuring my yard.”
She did not even startle.
“Site visit.”
“You were supposed to be at work,” she added.
As if entering my property without permission was a scheduling problem on my end.
The photographer looked uncomfortable.
I glanced at Naomi’s measurements.
“You’re off by four feet.”
“What?”
“Fence line angles near the oak.”
The photographer laughed before catching himself.
Naomi rolled her eyes.
“This is Brandon. He handles photography for some of our events.”
“What events?”
“Work stuff.”
“Leave.”
“Thea.”
“Both of you.”
She gave me the long, patient stare she used on vendors she considered difficult.
“You’re going to love the pictures.”
“I’m going to love you leaving.”
Brandon lowered the camera.
They left.
But the camera bothered me.
He had not photographed Naomi.
Not once.
No test portraits.
No smiling shot beside the pool.
He had photographed the yard empty.
Wide corner angles.
Pool.
Patio.
Oak tree.
Fence line.
Kitchen-window view.
Family event photographers photograph people.
Real estate photographers photograph space.
That night I installed a keyed lock on the side gate.
The next day, an email arrived from one of my surveying clients.
Walt Hendricks ran a small goat ranch west of town.
His message concerned fence posts.
At the bottom he added:
P.S. Saw your place in the Blue Bonnet Ridge flyer. Didn’t know you rented it for events. Looks nice.
I stopped breathing.
An image attachment sat beneath the message.
I opened it.
Glossy flyer.
Client Appreciation Fall Barbecue.
Private Hill Country Venue.
Swimming.
Music.
Food.
Date coming soon.