“It’s late,” I said.
“I don’t care.”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
He grabbed his keys and left.I stood there, looking at the mess, my hands shaking. I started picking up bottles because doing something felt better than standing still.
About an hour later, the front door opened.
Dave walked in, pale and furious in a way I’d never seen before.
“What did she say?” I asked.
He shut the door slowly. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said. “She didn’t just disrespect our house.”
“She played us. From the start.”
My chest tightened. “What else did she do?”
He looked at me. “She played us. From the start.”
“Explain,” I said.
“I went to her apartment,” he said. “She tried to block the door. Told me it was a disaster zone. Said the renovation was worse. Said it wasn’t a good time.”
He gave a short, bitter laugh.
“So I stepped outside and called Mom.”
“I pushed past her,” he went on. “And guess what? No renovation. None. The place was clean. Finished. Normal. Kitchen intact. No dust. No boxes.”
My stomach dropped. “So she lied.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And when I asked why she really needed our house, she kept dodging. Changing the subject. Trying to guilt-trip me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“So I stepped outside and called Mom,” he said. “Put her on speaker. Told her everything. Mom started asking Mandy questions. Dates. Contractor names. Basic stuff.”
“At first, Mandy cried.”
He paused.
“At first, Mandy cried,” he said. “Then she denied everything. Then she went silent. And then she came clean.”
I braced myself. “What did she say?”
“She saw a post online,” he said. “Some group looking to rent a private house for a Christmas party. Cash. No questions. She knew we’d be gone. Our house is bigger than hers. Fewer close neighbors. So she lied about the renovation to guilt us into saying yes.”
My mouth went dry.
“And fully planned to leave the mess for us.”
“She rented out our house?” I whispered.
He nodded. “She let strangers in. Took their money. And fully planned to leave the mess for us.”
I sat down at the table hard enough that my chair scraped.“What did she say when you called her out?”
“She said she needed the money,” he answered. “That it was just one night. That she didn’t think it would get ‘that bad.’ Like that made it okay.”
“I told her she had to pay for everything.”
He looked up at me. “I told her she had to pay for everything. Cleaning. Damage. All of it. She crossed her arms and said she wasn’t paying a cent. Said we were ‘overreacting’ and ‘comfortable enough’ to handle it.”
Something in me went very, very calm.
“We’re done asking,” I said.
He studied my face. “What are you thinking?”
“We go back tomorrow,” I said. “And we stop being nice about it.”
The next day, we drove to Mandy’s apartment together.
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