Chapter 6 - The Eviction
The shock in the room reached a deafening crescendo. Several of Grant’s college friends immediately set their glasses down on the nearest tables, looking deeply uncomfortable, muttering excuses about traffic, and hurrying toward the front door without a backward glance.
“You can’t do this!” Grant yelled, his face dark with fury as he pointed a trembling finger at me. “You’re throwing us out on Christmas Eve? Where are we supposed to go? All the hotels in Pinehaven are booked solid!”
“There are plenty of motels down near the interstate,” I replied smoothly, folding my arms across my chest. “Or perhaps you can check into a nice parking lot. It builds character, right?”
“Dad! Mom! Do something!” Grant snapped, looking frantically at his parents.
Richard looked like he was about to suffer a stroke. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then turned a glare of pure venom onto my mother. “This is all your fault, Denise! If you hadn’t been so eager to show off and lock her out just because her coat wasn't expensive enough for your friends, we wouldn't be standing out in the cold right now!”
“My fault?” Denise shrieked, her voice cracking as she turned on her husband. “You stood right beside me and agreed she would ruin the aesthetic of the lobby! Don’t you dare put this on me!”
“Enough!” Grandma Helen’s voice boomed through the parlor, silencing their bickering instantly. “You have twenty-five minutes left. If you are still on this property when the clock strikes eight, I will have the county sheriff—who happens to be sitting at Table Four right over there—escort you out for trespassing.”
Sheriff Miller, a lifelong family friend who had been quietly eating roasted potatoes near the back of the room, slowly stood up, tipped his hat toward Grandma and me, and gave a solemn nod.
Defeated, humiliated, and utterly stripped of their power, my parents and my brother turned and practically fled toward the grand staircase to pack their bags. The remaining guests quickly gathered their coats and slipped out into the snowy night, eager to distance themselves from the imploding dynasty of the Vance family.
Within twenty minutes, the grand parlor was completely cleared of everyone except Grandma Helen, Eli, myself, and the loyal lodge staff—the chefs, the housekeepers, and the concierge—who had all gathered near the kitchen doors, watching with quiet, supportive smiles.
Eli looked up at me, tugging on my sleeve. “Mommy, does this mean we get to stay in the big castle tonight?”
I smiled, kneeling down to hug him tightly. “Yes, baby. We get to stay right here.”
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Grandma Helen walked over, resting her hand gently on my shoulder. Her eyes were warm, bright, and filled with deep pride.
“You handled that like a true matriarch, Natalie,” she whispered. “Now, come into the dining hall. The chefs kept the best turkey warm just for us, and I want my great-grandson to decorate every single cookie on the dessert table.”
