“Mom.”
“Maya.”
“She has drawings.”
I closed my eyes.
That was new.
“What kind?”
“Office setup. Shelving. A filming wall. Something about taking out the small bedroom wall.”
I looked toward the hallway.
That wall held a photograph of Thomas hanging pictures after the renovation.
He had left one nail crooked.
I never fixed it.
“Maya.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t argue with them.”
“Why not?”
“Because words aren’t going to teach this lesson.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing dramatic.”
She was silent.
“That sounded dramatic.”
I smiled.
“I’m going to stop paying for their assumptions.”
The next morning, sunlight filled the cottage kitchen.
I was drinking coffee when the front door opened.
Not knocked.
Opened.
Sarah walked inside carrying a clipboard and a silver measuring tape.
She stopped when she saw me.
“Oh.”
I looked at her.
“Good morning.”
She recovered quickly.
“Morning.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just getting dimensions.”
“For what?”
“The office.”
She walked toward the living room.
“I’m thinking bamboo blinds here. Maybe built-in storage along this wall.”
I remained seated.
Sarah pulled the tape measure out.
The metal strip snapped across the window.
I watched her measure a house she did not own using a key I had given her for emergencies.
Then something inside me settled completely.
I stood.
Sarah set her handbag on my dining chair.
I walked over, opened the small outside pocket, and removed the brass key.
She spun around.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking back my key.”
“You went into my bag.”
“I retrieved my property from the pocket where I knew you kept it.”
Her face reddened.
“David and I already decided—”
“No.”
My voice stayed quiet.
“You and David decided what you wanted.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It isn’t even close.”
She stared at me.
I slipped the key into my apron pocket.
“You no longer have access to the cottage.”
“Laura, this is ridiculous.”
“I’m asking you to leave.”
“You are seriously kicking me out because we discussed using this space?”
“You entered without knocking to measure windows for renovations I never approved.”
Sarah’s jaw tightened.
“This family has spent years accommodating you.”
I almost laughed.
“Accommodating me?”
“You live out here while we maintain the main house.”
That sentence was so astonishing I had to pause.
“You think you maintain the main house?”
“We live there.”
“Yes.”
“That’s maintaining it.”
“No, Sarah.”
I looked directly at her.
“Living somewhere is not the same as paying for it.”
Her expression shifted.
I continued.
“Take your clipboard.”
She snatched her handbag.
“This is unbelievable.”
“Probably.”
She walked out.
I closed the door.
An hour later, Gary Miller arrived.
He had done repair work for Thomas and me for years.
He carried a metal toolbox in one hand.
“Changing locks?”
“Every exterior door.”
Gary raised an eyebrow.
“Family?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
People who have worked around houses long enough recognize that tone.
Two hours later, the cottage had new hardware and a reinforced deadbolt.
Gary placed two fresh keys on the counter.
“Who gets the second?”
“Maya.”