Marissa stepped out of the first vehicle in a linen dress and sunglasses, looking like she was attending a charity board meeting. Behind her came Toby and Rebecca. From the second car emerged Marissa’s parents. I recognized her sister Paige from one Christmas five years ago and a brother-in-law I had met exactly twice. From the third car came her brother Curtis and his wife, plus two older family friends whose names I could not remember.
I turned slowly and looked at Garrett.
“What is this?”
He had the decency to look ashamed.
“She thinks,” he said weakly, “that since the situation affects everyone—”
“The situation?”
He looked away.
“The finances.”
I laughed once, so sharply it startled even me.
“Your wife brought an audience.”
“Mom, she said it would help if everyone who was impacted—”
“Impacted?”
I repeated the word as if it smelled bad.
The doorbell rang.
Not politely. Firmly. Repeatedly.
I opened the door.
Marissa stood there smiling the public smile she used at listing presentations.
“Edith,” she said brightly. “We’re all here so we can talk this through like a family.”
I looked past her at the cluster on my walk and in my driveway. Curious faces. Awkward faces. Faces prepared for spectacle.
No.
Absolutely not.
I stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind me so my answer would not echo through my own hallway.
“You may come in,” I said to Marissa, Garrett, Toby, and Rebecca. “No one else.”
Her smile thinned.
“They came to support us.”
“They can support you from their cars.”
“Edith, don’t be inhospitable.”
“This is my house,” I said. “Hospitality is my decision.”
A flush rose in her neck.
Her father shifted uncomfortably by the mailbox. Paige looked at Rebecca and then away. Toby studied the ground. Only Rebecca met my eyes, and hers were apologetic.
Marissa tried again.
“Everyone here has been affected by your choices.”
“There is no world in which that sentence gets your sister into my living room.”
Silence.
Then I added, very evenly, “If any person I did not invite crosses this threshold, I will call the police and tell them a group of adults is attempting to force a confrontation inside my home. Decide accordingly.”
That did it.
Marissa knew a public scene could cut both ways.
She turned to the others with a smile so brittle it nearly rang.
“We’ll keep this private,” she said. “Why don’t y’all take a short walk and we’ll update you after?”