Beach bags.
Fishing gear.
For several seconds, the scene looked exactly like one of our old family weekends.
That hurt more than I expected.
If they had arrived angry, it would have been easier.
Instead, they arrived happy.
They genuinely believed everything would work out because it always had.
Hannah jogged to the porch.
She pulled out the key.
Inserted it.
Turned.
Nothing.
She frowned.
Tried again.
Tyler came over.
She handed him the key.
He tested it.
Same result.
Dad walked up carrying a cooler.
He said something I could not hear.
Then he looked above the door.
The camera was visible.
His posture changed.
One by one, everyone followed his gaze.
My phone started ringing.
Mom first.
Then Hannah.
Then Tyler.
The family chat lit up.
Emily, this isn’t funny.
Let us in.
Mom wrote:
How could you do this to your own family?
Dad:
We drove six hours. Call us.
Aunt Maggie:
Can we please just sort this out?
That last message hurt because Maggie sounded less entitled than the others.
I almost called.
Then Hannah wrote:
Stop being ridiculous and unlock your own house.
My own house.
I typed one message.
The house is not available. I already told you that. Do not force the door. The alarm is active and the monitoring service may contact local authorities if the house is entered by force.
I sent it.
On the camera feed, phones came out almost simultaneously.
I watched Hannah read.
She turned toward Mom.
Mom read next.
Dad looked from his phone toward the house.
No one looked frightened.
They looked offended.
That felt more honest.
For fifteen minutes, they argued.
Not with me.
With one another.
Hannah gestured toward the door.
Dad pointed toward the cars.
Mom stood with her arms folded.
Aunt Maggie eventually began returning bags to a trunk.