Danielle slammed the folder onto the island. “Your parents told us this was a gift,” she snapped. “For the kids.” Every head turned toward Mom and Dad. Mom’s vase trembled in her hands. Dad finally spoke, barely above a whisper. “We said Laurel might help with a rental. Danielle heard what she wanted, and we let her believe it.” Mitchell set his lamp down on my counter like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“Everyone’s things need to be out by tomorrow night,” I said calmly. Danielle laughed, high and brittle. “That’s impossible. We already have plans for the carriage house.” Before I could ask what she meant, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find a young couple holding rolling suitcases and a printed confirmation. “Hi,” the woman said brightly. “We booked the carriage house on Airbnb. Is this the right place?”