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.

“Based on this, Ms. Sinclair has a legal right to be here, and we are not going to remove her from the premises,” he said. Victoria stepped down one porch stair with her face pale from controlled rage.

“Harrison will fix this as soon as I call him,” she promised. Lydia’s expression did not change as she looked at her watch.

“Perhaps he will try, but he will need to do so through legal counsel who can explain the difference between marital assumptions and recorded ownership,” Lydia said. She reached into her folder again and produced a final document.

“In the meantime, I have an emergency order signed this morning granting my client exclusive access pending a hearing,” Lydia announced. “So here is what will happen next because the locksmith will restore access and Ms. Sinclair will enter her property.”

“And you, Victoria, will leave immediately,” Lydia finished. Cassandra made a choking sound of disbelief.

“You cannot be serious about this,” she said. “I am consistently serious about my work,” Lydia replied with a slight smile.

Victoria planted herself on the porch and refused to move. “I am not leaving my home,” she declared.

The older officer looked tired of the drama. “Ma’am, please do not make this any worse than it already needs to be,” he warned.

For a second I thought she might truly refuse, but then she turned toward the front door and fumbled in her tote bag for her keys. She yanked the wrong key so hard that the new brass lock rattled in the door frame.

“That key is not going to work,” Miller said as he took a step forward. “I know exactly how keys work,” she snapped back at him.

Her fingers shook as she tried another key and then another before thrusting the whole ring toward him. “Open it right now,” she commanded.

He took the keys and selected the right one to open the lock before glancing at Lydia. “Do you want the old cylinders reinstalled?” he asked.

“I do,” Lydia confirmed as Miller set down his toolbox. I climbed the porch steps slowly while my pulse hammered in my ears.

Victoria stood off to the side and breathed through her nose with her eyes bright with hatred. Up close I could smell her expensive perfume, but underneath it I caught the faint scent of the house itself.

It was the smell of old wood and sea salt and lemon oil mixed with the dust warmed by the morning sun. I stepped across the threshold and almost stumbled because the entry rug was gone.