Chapter 6: The Christmas Guests Arrived Early
By nine o'clock the following morning, Ashley had transformed my kitchen into a catering station.
Three enormous turkeys sat in their packaging beside the sink. Bags of potatoes crowded the counter, and a handwritten schedule was taped to the refrigerator.
At the top, in large red letters, she had written:
*CHRISTMAS DINNER — WHITMORE FAMILY HOME*
Below that were fifteen names, divided into seating groups.
My name wasn't on the list.
I noticed it while reaching for the milk.
"Ashley, where am I supposed to sit?""
She was arranging miniature gold ornaments in a glass bowl.
"What?""
"The seating chart. Where am I supposed to sit?""
She glanced at the refrigerator.
"Oh. I thought you'd prefer the little table near the kitchen.""
"The little table?""
"There's more room at the main table if we keep it to fourteen people.""
"There are fifteen guests.""
"Exactly. Plus Daniel and me. That's seventeen.""
"And me.""
Ashley sighed as though I had asked her to calculate the national debt.
"Margaret, it's just a seating arrangement. You can sit wherever you want.""
"Then why did you leave my name off?""
She placed an ornament in the bowl with exaggerated care.
"Because you're the host. You'll be busy serving food anyway.""
I stared at her.
"Have you ever considered how exhausting it is to cook for seventeen people?""
"You're not cooking for seventeen. You're cooking for fifteen guests, Daniel, and me.""
"And who will cook for me?""
She gave a short laugh.
"You're being dramatic.""
I opened the refrigerator and took out my milk.
"No, Ashley. I'm being very clear.""
She turned toward me.
"Look, I know you're upset about the paperwork. But we can discuss that after Christmas. Right now, I need you to focus.""
"Focus on what?""
"The food. The house. Making everything presentable.""
"And what will you be doing?""
Her face reddened.
"I'm organizing everything!""
"You mean the decorations?""
"Yes, and the seating, and the guests, and the photographs, and the schedule.""
I glanced at the three turkeys.
"That's an impressive amount of organizing for someone who expects someone else to do all the cooking.""
She slammed the ornament bowl onto the counter.
"Daniel!""
He appeared at the kitchen doorway wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt.
"What?""
"Your mother is refusing to cooperate.""
Daniel looked at the refrigerator, then at the turkeys.
"Cooperate with what?""
"Christmas dinner!""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Ashley, maybe we should order food.""
She stared at him as though he'd suggested burning the house down.
"Order food? My parents are expecting a proper Christmas dinner.""
"Then you can prepare it.""
"I have been preparing it!""
"You bought the groceries. Mom is expected to cook everything.""
Ashley's mouth fell open.
"Are you seriously taking her side?""
Daniel glanced at me.
"I'm taking the side of the person whose house this is.""
For a second, I thought Ashley might throw the ornament bowl.
Instead, she snatched her phone from the counter.
"Fine. I'll call my mother.""
She stormed into the living room and began pacing.
Daniel watched her leave.
"I'm sorry, Mom.""
I looked at my son.
"An apology is a beginning, Daniel. It isn't a solution.""
He nodded.
"I know.""
"Then here's what I need. I will not cook three turkeys. I will not sign any documents. And I will not pretend that nothing happened simply because your wife's relatives are coming to dinner.""
"Okay.""
"And if she continues trying to force this arrangement, she and I will need to discuss whether she can continue living here.""
He swallowed hard.
"I understand.""
I hoped he did.
Because before noon, the situation became much worse.
The doorbell rang.
Ashley hurried from the living room, suddenly wearing her brightest smile.
"That must be my parents!""
She opened the door, and a burst of cold air swept through the hallway.
Her mother, Patricia, entered first, carrying a large gift bag. Her father, Leonard, followed with a bottle of sparkling cider. Behind them came Ashley's sister, Brooke, and Brooke's husband.
"Welcome!"" Ashley announced.
"Come in, come in. We're so excited to have everyone here.""
Patricia hugged her daughter.
"Look at this place! You've done a wonderful job.""
"Thank you. I've been working on it for weeks.""
I stood near the staircase, waiting for someone to acknowledge me.
Patricia glanced in my direction.
"Oh, Margaret. You're here.""
I smiled politely.
"Good morning, Patricia.""
She looked at the kitchen.
"Have you started the turkeys?""
"No.""
Her eyebrows rose.
"Well, Ashley said you were handling dinner.""
"Ashley volunteered my kitchen and my labor without asking me.""
Patricia's smile vanished.
"Oh, surely we don't need to start this again.""
"Start what?""
"Making Ashley feel unwelcome.""
I stared at her.
"Your daughter invited fifteen people into my home without my permission. I don't think asking her to respect that fact is unreasonable.""
Patricia lowered her voice.
"Margaret, you need to understand that this is about the future. Daniel and Ashley are building a life together. It's only natural that they should have a stable home.""
"They have a stable home. They're living in mine.""
Leonard cleared his throat.
"Perhaps we should all sit down and talk about this calmly.""
"I would be happy to talk calmly. But I won't discuss transferring my property while everyone is pressuring me.""
Patricia exchanged a look with Ashley.
It was quick, but I saw it.
Then Patricia reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded document.
"Actually, Margaret, perhaps you should look at this.""
She handed it to me.
The first page was a letter from the real estate attorney whose email I'd found in Daniel's office.
It described a proposed property transfer and outlined the steps required to complete it.
At the bottom, someone had handwritten a note.
*If Margaret refuses, proceed with the guardianship request.*
I looked up.
"Who wrote this?""
Patricia held out her hand.
"Give it back.""
"Who wrote it?""
"That's none of your business.""
"It's a document concerning my house. That makes it very much my business.""
Ashley stepped between us.
"Mom, please. We don't need to do this right now.""
I looked at her.
"You invited your family here to celebrate becoming homeowners, didn't you?""
Her expression changed.
Patricia's mouth tightened.
Leonard looked at Daniel.
And Daniel, standing near the kitchen doorway, finally spoke.
"Is that true, Ashley?""
She turned toward him.
"Daniel, don't.""
"Did you tell everyone that Mom had agreed to transfer the house?""
She said nothing.
"Did you tell them the realtor was coming on December twenty-sixth?""
"Daniel, this is not the time.""
"Then when is the time?""
Her voice rose.
"When your mother stops making everything about herself!""
The words echoed through the hallway.
For a moment, even Patricia seemed uncomfortable.
I took a breath.
"Christmas dinner is canceled.""
Ashley stared at me.
"You can't be serious.""
"I am.""
"Fifteen people are coming!""
"Then you can explain to them why you invited them without permission.""
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"You will regret this.""
I met her eyes.
"No, Ashley. I regret letting you believe that kindness meant you could do whatever you wanted.""
Her face flushed crimson.
Then the doorbell rang again.
Everyone turned.
Ashley forced a smile, smoothed her sweater, and hurried to the door.
When she opened it, a man in a dark overcoat stood on the porch holding a leather briefcase.
He introduced himself as Mr. Harris, the attorney who had been handling the proposed property transfer.
"I understand there's been some confusion regarding the documents," he said.
I stepped forward.
"There has been more than confusion. I never agreed to transfer my house.""
The attorney looked at Ashley.
She gave him a tight smile.
"Perhaps we should discuss this privately.""
"No," I said.
"If the documents concern my property, we can discuss them here.""
Mr. Harris opened his briefcase.
"I was hoping to obtain clarification regarding your intentions, Mrs. Whitmore. I was informed that you had expressed an interest in transferring ownership to your son and daughter-in-law.""
"I have expressed no such interest.""
He looked down at his papers.
"Then I need to ask how your signature came to be included in the preliminary documentation.""
My heart stopped.
"What signature?""
He turned the page toward me.
At the bottom of the proposed transfer agreement was a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
The first letter was tall and looping. The final stroke curved beneath the surname.
But I had never written it.
I looked at Daniel.
He stared at the page, horrified.
Then I turned toward Ashley.
She had gone completely still.
"Where did you get this signature?"" I asked.
For the first time since she had entered my home with that shopping list, my daughter-in-law looked genuinely afraid.
And when the attorney spoke again, his words changed everything.
"Mrs. Whitmore, if you did not sign this document, we may be dealing with something much more serious than a disputed property transfer.""
May you like
He closed the briefcase.
"Because this signature was submitted to our office as proof that you had already consented to the transfer.""
