Chapter 3 - The Notice on the Door
Before Eleanor could unleash another tirade, the heavy front doorbell rang with three sharp, impatient buzzes.
Through the frosted sidelights of the entryway, I saw the silhouette of a moving van idling in our circular driveway.
Eleanor’s face instantly brightened with triumphant arrogance, a smug grin spreading across her painted lips.
"Speak of the devil! Derek must have decided to bring the first load of furniture ahead of schedule."
"He wouldn't dare," I murmured, walking past her to open the heavy mahogany front door.
Standing on my porch was indeed my brother Derek, wearing a rumpled polo shirt and holding a clipboard, flanked by two burly men carrying a sofa.
Behind them, his wife, Brenda, was directing movers to unload cardboard wardrobe boxes onto my manicured lawn.
"Hey, Evie! Great place you got here," Derek said casually, moving to push past me as if we were roommates sharing a dorm.
"Mom told me you were doing okay, but damn, this curb appeal is insane. Where do you want the sectional?"
I planted my foot firmly against the doorframe, blocking his entrance with an icy stare that stopped him in his tracks.
"Put that sofa back on the truck right now, Derek," I said, my voice carrying the unyielding authority of a veteran courtroom attorney.
"You are trespassing on private property, and neither you nor your furniture is crossing this threshold."
Brenda dropped her iced coffee onto the stone walkway, shrieking in outrage.
"Excuse me? Eleanor told us the lease agreement was finalized yesterday! We surrendered the keys to our rental this morning!"
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"Then you should have called the actual homeowner before breaking your lease, Brenda," I replied coldly.
"Because my mother doesn't own a single square inch of this estate."
