Melissa stared into the camera.
“I never paid myself.”
For the first time all afternoon, everyone fell silent.
Then Kyle slowly turned toward Melissa.
“You told me Emily paid for everyone.”
“She did!”
“No,” I said. “I offered everyone a free week at a property I own.”
Mom lowered her voice.
“So there’s no money to refund?”
“Correct.”
Melissa looked furious.
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“Actually, it does.”
I opened another file on my laptop.
“Remember when you asked me to book the golf cart, boat rental, seafood dinner, and amusement park tickets?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Yes.”
“You told me everyone would reimburse me.”
Mom suddenly looked uneasy.
Melissa crossed her arms.
“So?”
“So you never did.”
The extra charges came to $2,840.
I had invoices.
Texts.
Screenshots.
And repeated promises from Melissa that she would pay.
“I canceled everything yesterday,” I said.
Kyle spun toward her.
“You said all that was prepaid!”
Melissa ignored him.
Mom tried another tactic.
“We can talk about money later.”
“No. That’s exactly what we always do. We talk about it later, and later becomes never.”
I opened the third document.
“And one more thing.”
Melissa groaned.
“Oh my God.”
“Last year’s Christmas cabin.”
Her expression shifted.
I’d rented another property for the family that year.
Melissa’s children damaged a television, broke a sliding door, and spilled candle wax across a dining table.
Melissa blamed the property owner and insisted the security deposit would cover the damage.
Except I had owned that property too.
Repairs cost $4,700.
“I never charged you,” I said. “Because I thought helping family meant absorbing the occasional loss.”
Mom lowered her eyes.
