Chapter 3: Friday at Three
By Friday morning, the beach house looked exactly the way I wanted it to look.
Quiet.
Clean.
Mine.
The ocean was bright blue beneath a cloudless sky. Gulls circled above the dunes. The deck smelled faintly of cedar and fresh salt.
I made coffee and stood outside with the mug between both hands.
For a few minutes, there was no Marissa.
No Greg.
No family drama.
Just waves.
Then Claire stepped onto the deck.
"They're coming.""
I looked at my phone.
3:02 p.m.
"Right on schedule.""
Claire glanced toward the road.
"You nervous?""
"No.""
"You're lying.""
"A little.""
She smiled.
"Good. Means you're human.""
A line of cars appeared beyond the dunes.
One.
Then three.
Then six.
By 3:10, the driveway was full.
A minivan.
Two SUVs.
A rented passenger van.
Several sedans.
A truck with a small trailer.
People poured out.
Adults.
Teenagers.
Children.
Suitcases.
Coolers.
Beach chairs.
A portable grill.
Someone had even brought a folding table.
Claire stared.
"Twenty-two people?""
I counted.
"Twenty-three.""
She looked at me.
"Who is number twenty-three?""
I pointed.
Greg stepped out of the last SUV.
Claire whispered, "Of course.""
Marissa emerged from the passenger seat wearing oversized sunglasses and a straw hat.
She looked at my house.
Then at me.
Then smiled.
"You finally came to your senses.""
I walked down the steps.
"No.""
Her smile faded.
"What?""
"I said no.""
She glanced around.
Everyone was watching.
Greg's mother stepped forward.
"This is ridiculous.""
I looked at her.
"Good afternoon.""
She folded her arms.
"You humiliated us.""
"I reserved hotel rooms for all of you.""
"We don't want a hotel.""
"That's unfortunate.""
Marissa removed her sunglasses.
"You told everyone they'd be staying here.""
"You told everyone.""
"You are destroying this family's vacation.""
"I gave you a hotel.""
"We want the beach house.""
"No.""
One of Greg's cousins laughed.
"Come on. There's plenty of room.""
I looked at him.
"How many bedrooms do you see?""
He glanced toward the house.
"Three.""
"Exactly.""
"We can sleep on couches.""
"The couches are not bedrooms.""
"Kids can sleep on the floor.""
"No.""
Marissa stepped closer.
"Stop embarrassing me.""
I almost laughed.
"You invited twenty-two strangers into my house without permission.""
"They're not strangers.""
"I've met six of them.""
"That doesn't matter.""
"It matters to me.""
She lowered her voice.
"You've always been like this.""
"Like what?""
"Cold.""
"Because I won't let you use my house?""
"Because you think you're better than us.""
I looked at everyone standing behind her.
Then I said, clearly enough for everyone to hear:
"I don't think I'm better than anyone here.""
I paused.
"I just know the difference between family and permission.""
The crowd went silent.
Then Greg's mother said, "We have a key.""
"No, you don't.""
She reached into her purse.
"I have the original.""
"You have a key that no longer works.""
She marched toward the front door.
I didn't move.
She inserted it.
Nothing.
She twisted harder.
Still nothing.
She turned around.
Her face was red.
"What did you do?""
"Changed the locks.""
"That was my key!""
"To my house.""
Marissa stepped between us.
"This is insane.""
"No," I said.
"What's insane is showing up with twenty-two people after being told no.""
A little boy tugged at his father's shirt.
"Dad, where are we sleeping?""
The father looked uncomfortable.
Marissa ignored him.
She pointed at me.
"You booked that hotel because you wanted to punish us.""
"No.""
"Then why?""
"Because you told everyone they were staying at my house.""
She opened her mouth.
I continued.
"And because I knew you wouldn't tell them the truth.""
Her face changed.
"What truth?""
I pulled my phone from my pocket.
"That you never had permission.""
She looked at the screen.
I had taken screenshots of our conversation.
Every message.
Every demand.
Every time she'd written We're staying there.
Every time I'd answered No.
I didn't show them yet.
Instead, I looked at Greg.
"Did Marissa tell you I agreed?""
Greg swallowed.
"She said you were okay with it.""
"Did she show you a message?""
"No.""
"Did she ever show you one?""
"No.""
Marissa turned toward him.
"Greg.""
He looked at her.
"Did you?""
"Marissa...""
She shook her head.
"Don't.""
But he was already uncomfortable.
"I assumed you'd asked her.""
"You assumed?""
"Yes.""
She glared at him.
Then turned back to me.
"You've always wanted to make me look bad.""
"I haven't had to.""
Her eyes flashed.
She stepped closer.
"You think buying this house makes you important?""
"No.""
"You think Mom would be proud of you?""
The air changed.
Claire looked at me.
Marissa knew exactly where she had gone.
Mom.
She always did this when she was losing.
She dragged Mom into the room.
I looked at her.
"Don't use Mom.""
"Why not?""
"Because she isn't here to defend herself.""
Marissa's expression hardened.
"She'd be ashamed.""
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
Then I said quietly, "You should be careful about bringing Mom into this.""
"Why?""
"Because I still have her letters.""
Marissa froze.
For the first time since she arrived, she looked genuinely afraid.
Claire noticed.
So did Greg.
"What letters?"" Greg asked.
Marissa turned sharply.
"Nothing.""
I looked at her.
"Not nothing.""
Her face went pale.
I had kept those letters for five years.
Letters Mom had written during the final months of her life.
Letters Marissa had never seen.
Letters that explained why Mom had changed her will.
Letters that explained something else, too.
Something I had never wanted to tell my sister.
Not because I was afraid of her.
Because I had hoped she would someday become the person Mom believed she could be.
Apparently, I had waited long enough.
Marissa whispered, "You wouldn't.""
I took one step toward her.
"Wouldn't what?""
She stared at me.
"Show them.""
"Why shouldn't I?""
"Because they're private.""
"Now you care about privacy?""
Her eyes filled with anger.
"You promised Mom.""
"I promised I wouldn't use them to hurt you.""
"Then don't.""
"I won't.""
She exhaled.
Then I added:
"But if you keep lying about what Mom wanted, I will tell the truth.""
Everyone around us had gone silent.
Greg looked between us.
"What did your mother write?""
Marissa snapped, "Stay out of it.""
He frowned.
"You're the one who brought her up.""
Before anyone could speak again, a white sedan pulled up behind the last SUV.
An elderly man stepped out.
He carried a leather briefcase.
I recognized him immediately.
My mother's attorney.
Mr. Bennett.
He walked toward me.
"Sorry I'm late.""
Marissa stared at him.
Then at me.
"Why is he here?""
I looked at the twenty-three people standing in my driveway.
"Because I thought Friday was going to be difficult.""
Mr. Bennett opened his briefcase.
"It appears you were right.""
Marissa stepped backward.
"What are you doing?""
He removed a sealed envelope.
Her name was written across the front.
Then he looked at me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?""
I nodded.
Marissa's voice trembled.
"Do what?""
Mr. Bennett turned toward her.
"Your mother left specific instructions concerning this property.""
Marissa stared at the envelope.
"But Mom died five years ago.""
"Yes.""
"And this house was bought yesterday.""
"Correct.""
"So what does she have to do with it?""
Mr. Bennett looked at me.
Then back at Marissa.
"More than you think.""
He handed me the envelope.
I broke the seal.
Inside was a single handwritten page.
I read the first line.
And my entire plan for the weekend changed.
Because Mom hadn't just written about the beach house.
May you like
She had written about Marissa.
And she had named the one person who could finally stop her.
