Danielle slammed the folder onto my kitchen island. “Your parents told us this was a gift,” she snapped. “For the kids.” Every person in the room turned toward Mom and Dad. Mom gripped her vase so tightly her hands trembled. Finally, Dad admitted the truth. They had only said I might help Mitchell and Danielle find a rental. Danielle had heard what she wanted to hear, and my parents had been too afraid to correct her. Mitchell quietly placed his lamp on my counter.

“Everyone’s belongings need to be gone by tomorrow night,” I said. Danielle gave a sharp laugh. “That’s impossible. We already have plans for the carriage house.” Before I could ask what she meant, the doorbell rang. A young couple stood outside with rolling suitcases and a printed confirmation. The woman smiled. “Hi. We booked the carriage house on Airbnb. Is this the right place?” Danielle suddenly went completely silent.

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