“Mandy, answer me. Why is there an elderly couple I don’t recognize living in the million-dollar lakeside house I bought for you?”
Her words froze the lively Thanksgiving table in an instant.
Clink.
A sharp, hollow sound rang out.
Across from me, my father, George, had dropped the knife he’d been gripping onto his plate. I stopped my hand halfway to my mouth, pumpkin pie on the fork, and slowly looked up.
My grandmother Dorothy’s gaze pierced straight past me, skewering my sister Ashley, who sat stiffly beside me, and then our parents.
Having just returned from overseas after several years away, my grandmother seemed far stricter than before, wrapped in an aura that allowed no one to approach her lightly.
“Grandma, what did you just say?”
My voice trembled. The words sounded far too unreal to someone like me, who was scraping together even the cost of today’s lunch.
“Didn’t you hear me, Mandy? I’m talking about the lakeside vacation home. The house I bought for you 3 years ago for your future.”
Her voice was calm, but beneath it, I could feel something like boiling magma.
“Grandma, isn’t there some kind of mistake?”
I summoned all my courage as I spoke. My heart was pounding wildly.
“I don’t own any house. Not a vacation home, not even my own apartment. I’m basically homeless right now. I was kicked out of my apartment last month, and I’ve been crashing at friends’ places ever since.”
“What?”
My grandmother’s eyebrow twitched.
“I knew something was wrong. As soon as I got back, I went to check on the place as a surprise. You weren’t there. Instead, an elderly couple I’d never seen before answered the door. They said they were the parents of Ashley’s husband, Kevin. Ashley, would you care to explain what’s going on?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my sister Ashley’s hand trembling as she held her wine glass.
“Ashley,” I turned to look at her.
Her eyes darted around, her breathing quick and shallow.
“Grandma!” Ashley cried out, almost screaming. “That must be some kind of mistake. Maybe you got the address wrong. There are lots of similar houses around there, and you just got back. You must be exhausted.”
“That’s right, Mom,” my mother, Sandra, jumped in. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. “It’s just jet lag. Your memories mixed up. Come on. The turkey’s getting cold.”
“Be quiet.”
My grandmother’s shout slammed down on my mother’s words like a physical blow. Despite her age, her voice was so powerful that everyone at the table flinched.
“My mind is not failing me yet. The address, the exterior, it was exactly the house I signed the contract for. And more than that…”
My grandmother reached into her handbag, pulled out a photograph, and slid it across the table.
“This is what Kevin’s parents, who were living in that house, said to me. ‘We’re staying in this home owned by our son’s wife, Ashley.’”
The moment those words landed, the color drained completely from Ashley’s face.
In the photo was a beautiful mansion by the lake, and in front of it, smiling for the camera, stood Ashley, her husband Kevin, and his parents.
“Shall we ask for an explanation of this photo?”
Faced with irrefutable evidence, the air in the room grew thick and heavy.
I stared at the photo, doubting my own eyes. It was the very same place Ashley had posted on social media with the caption “my new vacation home” back when I was wearing myself down juggling three part-time jobs.
That was my house.
“What is going on?”
I stood up.
“Mom, Dad, what does this mean? Grandma bought a house for me. Then why am I living like I’m homeless right now?”
At my question, my father looked away awkwardly.
“Uh, Mom, it’s complicated. Today’s Thanksgiving. Talking about money at a family dinner isn’t exactly appropriate, is it? Tomorrow we can sit down in my study and talk it through properly.”
My grandmother cut him off coldly.
“No, we’re clearing everything up here and now. Mandy, you really don’t know anything, do you? About the million-dollar vacation home I sent you 3 years ago and how it was used.”
A million dollars.
The room spun.
The balance in my bank account when I checked it this morning was $12.50.
Working three jobs, sacrificing sleep, only to watch everything disappear into student loan payments and living expenses.
A million dollars was a number I couldn’t even imagine.
“I don’t know anything. I’ve never seen a vacation home, and I’ve never once been told that anyone bought one for me.”
At my words, my grandmother’s expression softened slightly, a hint of pity flickering across her face. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by a hard stare as she turned to my parents.
“George, Sandra, you told me this, didn’t you? Mandy is mentally unstable and incapable of managing a large sum of money. Until she becomes independent, we will act as her guardians and manage that vacation home on her behalf.”