Chapter 8 - The Showdown at the Estate
I thought that would be the end of it. I had forgotten that Evelyn Vance’s sense of entitlement was a force of nature.
On Saturday afternoon, Clara and I were sitting on the lakeside terrace while Maisie took an afternoon nap inside with Sarah. The estate gates buzzed. I glanced at the security monitor mounted by the kitchen door and felt a chill run down my spine.
Parked outside the security gate was Kyle’s silver sedan. Inside were Kyle, Brinn, and my mother.
They hadn't just taken no for an answer; they had tracked down the location of the Vance Estate from the public architectural permit records my firm had filed with King County, which Brinn had evidently dug up online.
I walked down the long stone driveway to the front wrought-iron gates. I didn't open them. I stood on the inside, separated from my family by eight feet of black forged steel.
Evelyn practically lunged out of the passenger seat, wearing her finest wool coat, her face flushed with fury. Kyle and Brinn stepped out behind her, looking sheepish but greedy, their eyes greedily darting across the manicured lawns, the private dock, and the soaring glass mansion behind me.
""Open this gate, Jenna!"" Evelyn demanded, rattling the iron bars. ""You don't hang up on your mother!""
""You have five minutes to get back in your car and leave this private property before I alert estate security and the Mercer Island police,"" I said calmly, crossing my arms.
Kyle stepped forward, trying to play the reasonable mediator. ""Jenna, come on, don't be like this. Look at this place! You're living like a movie star while Mom is crying herself to sleep over repair bills. We drove all the way up here so we could sit down like adults, clear the air, and figure out the finances together.""
""There are no finances to figure out, Kyle,"" I said, looking directly into my brother's eyes. ""I don't owe you a single cent. You have a job. Pay your own credit cards.""
Brinn scoffed loudly, tossing her hair. ""You are being unbelievably selfish, Jenna! Just because you got lucky with some rich client doesn't mean you can treat us like trash! We're your family!""
""Family?"" I echoed, stepping closer to the bars. ""Where was this family when Maisie had a fever of 102 degrees three weeks ago and I had to sit in an urgent care lobby alone at two in the morning? Did any of you call? Did any of you text?""
Evelyn waved her hand dismissively. ""Babies get sick, Jenna! Stop playing the martyr! We apologized for the birthday dinner—""
""You never apologized,"" I cut in sharply. ""Not once. You didn't apologize then, and you're not apologizing now. You drove three hours up here today for one reason and one reason only: you saw money, and you thought you could bully me into handing it over just like you've bullied me my entire life.""
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""I am your mother!"" Evelyn shrieked, her voice echoing off the surrounding fir trees. ""I raised you! I put a roof over your head! You owe me respect, and you owe this family support! You think you’re better than us because you’re squatting in someone else’s mansion?!""
""No, Mom,"" I said, my voice dropping to an icy, unshakable register. ""I don't think I'm better than you. I know I'm better to my daughter than you ever were to me. And that is why you will never see a dime of my money, and you will never see Maisie again.""
