Chapter 2 - The Secret I Had Been Paying For
By eight in the morning, my phone was vibrating nonstop.
I made pancakes for Lily and Noah while ignoring it.
Lily had syrup on her cheek.
Noah was explaining the complicated rules of a card game he wanted to play.
For the first time since arriving in Ohio, my children looked relaxed.
I didn't want to ruin that.
Then my cousin Jenna called.
I answered.
“Hey.”
“Claire, what happened?”
I sighed.
“Mom gave Amanda the guest room.”
“I know.”
“And told me the kids and I could sleep on the floor.”
“I know.”
“And Amanda laughed.”
“I know.”
“Then you know what happened.”
Jenna was silent.
Finally, she said, “Mom is telling everyone you left because you were mad about a bedroom.”
“Of course she is.”
“Claire…”
“I don't want to fight.”
“Then don't.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Tell them the truth.”
I looked at my children.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want everyone thinking I’m keeping score.”
Jenna laughed softly.
“Claire, you’ve been keeping score for years. You just never wrote the numbers down.”
That sentence stayed with me.
After we hung up, I opened the reservation portal again.
The cancellation had been processed.
But there was a note from the lodge manager.
We’re sorry to hear about the cancellation. Because the property was reserved exclusively for your group and the cancellation occurred less than 24 hours before arrival, the standard refund is unavailable. However, we can transfer the booking to another date if you wish.
I stared at it.
Eighteen thousand dollars.
Gone.
Except it wasn't really gone.
I called the manager.
After explaining the situation, she offered to transfer the entire weekend to a new date.
I accepted.
Then I asked something else.
“Can I still use the catering deposit?”
“Yes.”
“What about the photographer?”
“He can transfer it too.”
The horseback riding company?
Yes.
The vans?
Yes.
Suddenly, the weekend I had thought I had lost wasn't lost.
I simply wasn't giving it to my family anymore.
I called the lodge manager again.
“Can you change the reservation?”
“To what?”
“My kids and me.”
She laughed.
“Just three guests?”
“Three guests.”
That afternoon, I made another decision.
I invited Noah's best friend and his mother.
Then I invited Lily's favorite cousin, Jenna.
Instead of twenty-three relatives fighting over rooms, we would have six people.
People who actually appreciated being there.
By Saturday morning, my phone showed fifty-six missed calls.
Mom finally sent a voicemail.
Her voice was furious.
“Claire, this is beyond childish. Everyone is arriving tomorrow. You need to fix this immediately.”
I listened twice.
Then I called her.
She answered instantly.
“Finally!”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where are you?”
“Still in Ohio.”
“Good. Come back.”
“No.”
Silence.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Claire, everyone is expecting you.”
“No. Everyone is expecting the weekend I paid for.”
She became quiet.
“What are you talking about?”
I looked out the hotel window.
“I canceled the lodge.”
“What?”
“I canceled the catering.”
“What?”
“The photographer.”
“Claire!”
“The vans.”
She stopped breathing for a second.
“You wouldn't.”
“I already did.”
“You can't cancel Thanksgiving!”
“I didn't cancel Thanksgiving, Mom.”
I paused.
“I canceled my obligation to make Thanksgiving perfect for people who don't respect me.”
She started yelling.
I let her.
For once, I didn't interrupt.
Then she said something that made my stomach turn.
“You’re punishing the whole family because Amanda got a bedroom.”
“No.”
I spoke quietly.
“You're finally seeing what happens when the person carrying everything puts it down.”
She hung up.
I looked at my phone.
One new message arrived.
From Amanda.
You are unbelievable. Dad would be ashamed of you.
I stared at it.
Then I deleted it.
Because Dad had always been the only person in that family who noticed.
He used to tell me, “Claire, being dependable is a gift. Just don't let people turn it into a duty.”
May you like
I hadn't understood him then.
I understood now.
