Mother didn’t laugh, but she also didn’t correct Brianna.
I looked back at the piles of bags, boxes, make-up trays, shoes, hair items, and entitlement that littered all of the floors I paid for by trading years of my life for them.
I wanted to scream.
But I simply nodded once.
“When are they moving in?”
Mother looked relieved. “Saturday morning.”
“Good”, I replied quietly.
That night, I called my attorney, my locksmith, my security company, and a moving company.Every item that belonged to my sister had been removed, packaged, documented and transferred into an individual storage facility with their name on it by Friday evening.
The locks were changed and cameras were installed on all entry points shortly thereafter…
The following morning (Saturday), my phone vibrated so aggressively on my nightstand, it almost knocked off of my nightstand.
Brianna first, Chloe then, Madison after that.
Mom called six consecutive times before leaving me a voicemail that was so loud, I could hear it through the speaker before pressing play.
Audrey, open the door immediately! Your sisters have arrived with their belongings.
Watching my live security feed on my tablet, looking at the girls on my front steps dressed as if they are about to go on a moving spree with them stacked around them: coffee cups, rolling suitcases, pillows, and the confident anger of women who have never heard the word “no” while holding hardware.
Mom was at the front using the original key to stab at my brand new smart lock.
Brianna was pulling on the handle.
Chloe was taking a video of herself probably preparing to do a story on how cruel I am.
Madison was crying, although it appeared none had found their way onto her cheeks.
I took Mom’s next call.
“Why doesn’t the key work?”
“I changed the locks.”
There was total shock on the camera footage from the porch.
Brianna grabbed the phone from Mom. “You changed the locks on family?”
“I changed the locks on my residence.”
Chloe screamed, “Where’s my stuff?”
“It’s in the storage unit,” I responded.“I’ve sent you all the access code and pictures of the inventory via email.”
“Are you kidding me? You touched my stuff!” Madison shouted.
“I took care of your items and removed them legally and with documentation,” I told her. “You brought them into my house without my knowledge or consent, and I would have preferred that you left them where they belonged.”
“Your actions have shamed your sisters,” Mother responded, shaking with rage,
“No. You promised them rooms in a house you don’t own.”
Dad arrived ten minutes after Mother and he surprised me by coming quietly where Mother had been planning everything.
Dad climbed the stairs to the porch and looked directly into the camera’s lens. “This has gone far enough, Audrey.”
The only time I opened the door was when my attorney, Karen Holt, pulled up behind Dad.
As soon as Mother saw the leather portfolio, her face changed.