The “Lol” wasn’t because I was happy to see them. It was because they had impeccable timing.
I walked into the living room, and there they were: my mother-in-law, Brenda, her sister, and Brenda’s grown son, sitting on my white linen sofa with greasy pizza boxes spread out on the coffee table.
“There she is!” Brenda chirped, not even standing up. “Caleb said you wouldn’t mind. We lost the lease on the condo, so we’re moving in for a few months. Or a year. We’ll see how it goes. And just so we’re clear, Jenna, I don’t do ‘maid work,’ so you’ll need to handle the laundry.”
I looked at Caleb, my husband, who was standing in the corner looking at his feet. “You okay with this, Caleb?”
“They’re family, Jen,” he muttered. “What was I supposed to say?”
“I understand,” I said with a wide, bright smile. “Make yourselves at home! I’m going to go upstairs and get started on that laundry.”
For the next three days, I was the perfect hostess. I cooked, I cleaned up after them, and I didn’t say a word when Brenda complained that the guest room was “too drafty.” I even helped them move the rest of their bins into the garage.
On the fourth morning, I woke up early, kissed Caleb goodbye, and told him I had a long day at the office.
At 10:30 a.m., Brenda called my cell, screaming so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “JENNA! Why are there men in the driveway? They’re putting a lock on the garage and they told us we have thirty minutes to vacate the premises!”
“Oh, right!” I said, sounding surprised. “I forgot to mention. I sold the house three months ago. Today is the closing date.”
“What?! Caleb didn’t say anything about a sale!”
“That’s because the house was in my name only, Brenda. Gift from my grandmother, remember? Caleb knew I was looking, but he didn’t think I’d actually pull the trigger. But when you guys moved in without asking, I decided to move the closing date up.”
“You can’t do this! We have nowhere to go!”
“Actually, you do,” I replied. “I used a tiny bit of the profit to rent you a lovely storage unit for your ‘mini airport terminal’ of suitcases. The address is in the mailbox. As for Caleb… well, he’s currently at his new apartment. It’s a studio. Only enough room for one person. He’ll have to decide if he’s a husband or a permanent roommate for his mother.”
I hung up, blocked their numbers, and took a sip of my coffee. I wasn’t going back to that house. My own bags were already at a boutique hotel downtown, and my new place—the one Caleb didn’t have a key to—was ready and waiting.
They wanted to live rent-free? They could try it at the storage facility.
