My stepmother called me at the end of the day, her voice so smug I could practically hear the smile on her lips, and told me that from now on I would never be allowed to set foot in the family beach house again because she had already changed every lock.

Victoria’s expression turned blank in the way faces do when the mind is racing too fast to choose which lie to tell next. My father’s name seemed to hang in the salt air like something dead and forgotten.

The older officer took the papers from Lydia and read the first page carefully before glancing up at me. “Are you Audrey Sinclair, and was your mother Miriam Sinclair?” he asked.

I nodded my head and met his gaze with a level stare. “Yes, that is correct.”

He looked at the documents again and then turned his attention back to Victoria. “Then why were we told that this was a domestic dispute involving a residence owned by Mr. Beaumont?” he asked.

Lydia gave him a look that was almost gentle in its profound disappointment. “That, officer, is an excellent question that I would like to hear the answer to as well.”

The locksmith cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “For what it is worth, I was told by the woman on the porch that her husband owned the property outright,” Miller said.

“I would not have changed these locks if I had known that the ownership was disputed,” he added while looking at his clipboard. Victoria whirled on him with her eyes flashing.

“You do not need to say another word to these people,” she hissed. “I am just saying what happened,” Miller replied as he lifted both hands in a defensive gesture.

Cassandra, whom I had not noticed at first, pushed open the side gate and emerged from around the back of the house. She was wearing oversized sunglasses and a matching cream tracksuit, looking like she had dressed for a resort brunch instead of a family ambush.

She froze when she saw Lydia and the officers holding the legal papers. “Mom, what is going on out here?” Cassandra asked with a tight voice.

Victoria ignored her daughter and kept her eyes fixed on the police. “Ma’am, if these documents are valid, then having the locks changed without the owner’s authorization could create a major problem,” the younger officer said.

“A problem?” Victoria echoed as her voice began to climb in pitch. “I am her father’s wife, and I have hosted every holiday in this house for years.”

“I have paid for improvements to this home and I have every right to be here,” she shouted. “Actually, your right to host holidays was extended as a courtesy by Audrey’s mother during her lifetime,” Lydia interrupted.