Then I composed my response to the family group chat.
My hands were still steady.
“Veronica, you’ve made your position clear. If I’m not welcome at Christmas unless I provide free labor, then I have to respect that boundary. However, I should inform everyone that I’ve canled the following arrangements that I previously paid for.
“The three-bedroom cabin at Snoridge Resort in Aspen for your family, $8,900. Ski lessons for the kids, $1,850. Brad’s lift ticket package, $425. And I will not be providing the $7,728 I promised toward your travel expenses.
“I’ve also canled my own accommodations and flights. My $18,000 apparently wasn’t invited to Christmas either.”
“I hope you all have a wonderful holiday.”
I hit send.
Before I could second guessess myself, before the doubt could creep in, my phone exploded.
Within 30 seconds, Veronica was calling.
I declined.
She called again.
Declined.
A text message appeared.
All caps.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
Mom was next.
“Please tell me you’re joking. Call me right now.”
Dad.
“This is completely unacceptable behavior. Call your mother.”
Veronica, in her rage, created a new group chat without me and apparently tore into our parents because suddenly they were both blowing up my phone individually.
I turned on do not disturb and poured myself a very large, much needed glass of wine.
By the way, if you’re still with me after that bombshell, please hit that subscribe button. Trust me, this story only gets wilder, and I’ve got more raw, honest tales coming your way.
You won’t want to miss them.
The next morning, I woke up to 43 missed calls and over a 100 text messages.
I scrolled through them, sipping my coffee, feeling absolutely nothing.
Maybe that should have worried me, but it didn’t.
Veronica’s messages had devolved from angry accusations to full-blown panic.
She’d called the resort.
Everything was indeed cancelled.
The cabin was gone, the ski lessons booked. Christmas week in Aspen doesn’t have lastminute availability.
“You’ve ruined Christmas for your nieces and nephews,” she shrieked in one message. “How can you be so cruel? Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost us now? We can’t afford this. Mom and dad are devastated. I hope you’re happy.”
Mom’s messages were a mix of desperate please and thinly veiled disappointment.
“Please, please, sweetheart. This has gotten out of hand. Let’s talk about this like adults. Your father and I are very upset. Family doesn’t treat family this way. Veronica is beside herself. Think about the children.”
Dads were shorter or angrier.
“Your behavior is disgraceful. You will apologize to your sister and fix this immediately. I didn’t raise you to be vindictive. This is not how our family operates.”
Around noon, an unknown number flashed on my screen.
Out of sheer morbid curiosity, I answered finally.