Gerald did not even glance away from the television when he said, “Guests do not scrub toilets either.”
I waited for Derek to intervene, to clarify that this was a conversation that should have happened before luggage crossed our threshold, but he stayed quiet, and in that silence I felt something inside me tighten and then settle into place.
Instead of arguing, I smiled. “Of course,” I said calmly. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
Pamela’s expression brightened as if she had just won a private competition. Derek exhaled with relief.
Later that evening, while they laughed over dinner that I cooked out of habit, I sent Derek a message even though he was sitting ten feet away.
“If they are guests,” I wrote, “they stay fourteen days maximum. If they are tenants, they sign a lease and pay their share tomorrow. You decide.”
Derek read it and went pale. He followed me into our bedroom. “Brooke, what are you doing?” he whispered.
“Being clear,” I replied evenly.
My phone buzzed again, this time from Pamela.
“We will take the master bedroom,” her text read, followed by a smiling emoji. “You and Derek can use the smaller one.”
I stared at the message until the emoji felt like mockery.
Derek tried to minimize it. “She is stressed.”
“She is relocating us in our own house,” I answered.
The next morning I woke before everyone else and printed three copies of a document I titled House Guest Agreement. I detailed quiet hours, bathroom schedules, kitchen responsibilities, and the fourteen day limit. I included a section stating that guests would not receive mail at the address and would not be issued keys. I also prepared a draft lease agreement outlining rent, utilities, and a cleaning rotation if they preferred a longer stay.
At breakfast I placed the papers on the table. “Since you are guests,” I said brightly, “here are the house guidelines.”
Pamela’s smile faded. “Guidelines?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Fourteen days, no rent, no keys, no mail. If you want to stay longer, we formalize it.”
Gerald laughed harshly. “You think we are signing paperwork?”
“If you want to live here,” I said calmly, “yes.”
Brittany scoffed. “Derek would never let you throw us out.”
I turned to my husband. “Would you?”
Derek looked trapped. Pamela leaned forward. “Tell her she is overreacting.”
Derek swallowed. “Mom, maybe we should respect Brooke’s plan.”