And the vacation was perfect.
The kids chased waves. Dave actually finished a book. I slept to the sound of the ocean instead of the dishwasher. On our last night, Max asked if we could stay forever.
The happiness lasted until I opened our front door.
The smell hit me first—stale, sour, wrong.
I stepped inside and stopped cold.
Our kitchen looked like chaos had moved in and settled comfortably. Trash overflowing. Empty bottles lined up across the counter. Red plastic cups scattered on the floor. Sticky rings on every surface. A half-eaten bowl of food sat abandoned on the coffee table, crusted over like it had been forgotten for days.
I walked into the living room.
And that’s when my heart truly sank.
Whatever Mandy had promised us… our home was no longer it.
The couch cushions were stained. Not a little. A lot. Darkened and blotchy. Blankets crumpled on the floor. A bowl of something half-eaten turning crusty on the coffee table.
Behind me, Lily whispered, “Mom?”
Little bits of glass glittered in the carpet.
I swallowed. “Yeah, baby?”
“Why does it look… gross?”
I didn’t answer.
I walked down the hall. Max’s door was open. His bedside lamp was on the floor, the base cracked in half, the bulb shattered.
Little bits of glass glittered in the carpet.
In Lily’s room, her stuffed animals were scattered. Drawers open. Her favorite blanket wadded up near the closet.
“Did we get robbed?”
This didn’t look like someone had “stayed over.”
It looked like the aftermath of a party. A big one.
Max stood in his doorway, staring at the broken lamp.
“Did we get robbed?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said. My voice sounded flat. “Aunt Mandy stayed here, remember?”
His face crumpled. “She broke my stuff?”
“What happened here?”
Dave’s jaw was tight. “I’m calling her.”
We walked back to the kitchen. I dialed Mandy and hit speaker.
She picked up on the third ring. “Heyyy,” she said. “You guys home?”
“What happened here?” I asked.
Continued on the next page
