Chapter 4 - The Moving Truck Standoff
Derek dropped his clipboard, his face turning an angry shade of beet red as he stepped closer to the porch steps.
"Quit playing games, Evelyn! We have two kids sitting in the minivan, three movers charging ninety bucks an hour, and nowhere else to go!"
"That sounds like an unfortunate logistical crisis created entirely by your own arrogance," I answered, leaning against the jamb.
Eleanor rushed out onto the porch, waving her hands frantically at the movers.
"Don't listen to her! Carry the furniture inside! I am her mother, and I have granted permission for this tenancy!"
The lead mover, a burly man with tattoos down his forearms, paused and looked between Eleanor and me with deep skepticism.
"Ma'am, who is the deeded owner of this parcel?" the mover asked, pulling a delivery manifest from his back pocket.
Daniel stepped out onto the porch, wearing a crisp charcoal dress shirt and holding a laminated legal deed stamped with the Fulton County seal.
"This property is deeded solely to Evelyn Vance and Daniel Vance," my husband announced with absolute clarity.
"If one piece of that furniture touches my front hallway, I will have your commercial license revoked and file immediate charges for unlawful entry."
The lead mover didn't hesitate for three seconds; he whistled sharply to his crew and pointed toward the driveway.
"Load it back up, boys. We’re not getting caught in the middle of a domestic civil dispute."
"Wait! You can't leave!" Brenda screamed, chasing after the movers as they turned around with the heavy sofa.
"We paid you a five-hundred-dollar deposit!"
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"And your deposit covers transit to the curb, lady," the driver yelled back, climbing into the cab.
"Take it up with whoever hired you."
