“Not here.”
Mom frowned. “What does that mean?”
Before I could answer, headlights swept across the windows.
A white shuttle van pulled into my driveway.
Another car stopped behind it.
Melissa looked outside.
“Who is that?”
I smiled.
“The people handling your new accommodations.”
Melissa stared at me as if I had spoken another language.
“Our what?”
The doorbell rang.
My property manager, Denise, stepped inside with a tablet. Behind her stood a representative from Seabreeze Suites, a family hotel twenty minutes inland.
Denise looked at the six people in my kitchen.
“Good morning. I understand we’re relocating guests.”
Mom’s face hardened.
“We are not guests. We’re family.”
I nodded. “Exactly. Guests ask before they come.”
Dad pushed back his chair. “You’re throwing your parents out?”
“No. I booked you rooms.”
Melissa folded her arms. “I’m not taking my kids to some motel.”
The hotel representative smiled professionally. “It’s a two-bedroom suite with breakfast included, pool access, and a beach shuttle.”
I slid the confirmation across the island.
Paid for three nights.
After that, they could extend it themselves.
Mom stared at me. “Why are you doing this?”
I looked around my kitchen.
Melissa had opened cabinets without asking. Her children had slept in my confidential work office. Dad had blocked the neighbor’s access lane. Mom had already invited an aunt over.
Most of all, everyone assumed my home became theirs the moment they wanted it.
