Chapter 8 - The Family Council Crumbles
By Thursday afternoon, the story had completely metastasized across the entire Vance family tree.
Carson had somehow managed to hitch a ride back to Philadelphia on Wednesday afternoon, arriving at his mother’s suburban split-level home with no luggage, no money, and a cell phone with a cracked screen.
Evelyn Vance had immediately convened what she called an "Emergency Family Council."
My phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call from an unknown number. Guessing who it was, I set my iced latte on the hotel side table, positioned my laptop on the desk, and accepted the call on my computer with the video recording enabled.
The screen flickered to life.
It was Evelyn’s living room. The heavy floral drapes were drawn, casting a dim, suffocating yellow light over the scene.
Evelyn was seated in her high-backed armchair like a disgraced monarch, holding a tissue to her nose. To her left stood Garrett, his arms crossed over his chest, his face dark with fury, looking anywhere but at his brother. Paige was sitting on the sofa, scrolling angrily on her phone, refusing to look up.
And in the center, sitting on a wooden dining chair pulled into the middle of the carpet like a defendant on trial, was Carson.
He looked terrible. He had deep purple shadows under his eyes, his hair was unwashed, and he was wearing an old high school track sweatshirt that was two sizes too small.
"Brenda," Evelyn began, her voice quivering with dramatic vibrato. "I am holding this call because our family is on the brink of complete destruction, and you are the only one holding the matches."
"Hello, Evelyn," I said smoothly. "Nice to see you too."
"Don't you take that tone with me!" Evelyn snapped, dropping the tissue. "Carson has confessed everything. He made a terrible, foolish mistake. He wanted to impress his brother. He wanted our family to have a glorious summer together. Is ambition a crime, Brenda? Is wanting to be generous a sin?"
"Fraud is a crime, Evelyn," I replied, my voice perfectly level. "Theft is a sin. And lying to your spouse is generally considered bad form."
"He didn't steal anything!" Evelyn cried. "You are his wife! The Bible says the two shall become one flesh! That includes your bank account!"
"Actually, Pennsylvania marital property law differs significantly from your interpretation of Scripture," I said. "And as of nine o'clock this morning, Sandra Miller, Esq., filed a petition for legal separation in the Court of Common Pleas. Carson, you should check your email. Your digital service copy was sent two hours ago."
Carson’s head snapped up. His eyes went wide with pure terror. "Separation? Brenda, no! You can't divorce me over a vacation house!"
"It wasn't over a vacation house, Carson," I said, leaning closer to the webcam. "It was over who you revealed yourself to be the moment you thought you had me trapped. You looked at my ten months of labor—my exhaustion, my discipline, my sacrifice—and you saw nothing more than a resource to be consumed to feed your own pathetic ego."
"Brenda, listen to me," Garrett suddenly interrupted, stepping forward toward the camera, pushing Carson’s shoulder aside. His voice was rough, but there was an unexpected edge of shame beneath it. "Look... I didn't know he was using your money. I swear to God I didn't. He told me he got a corporate discount through his firm. He told Paige that you offered to cook because you felt guilty about not paying."
"And you believed him, Garrett?" I asked coldly. "You really believed that a senior corporate cost analyst would willingly offer to spend two weeks cleaning your toilet and scrubbing your grease pans while you sat on the couch drinking beer?"
Garrett looked down at the carpet, his jaw working silently. He had no answer for that. Because the truth was, he *had* wanted to believe it. It was convenient for him to believe it.
"You let him treat me like dirt because it served you," I continued, looking right at Paige, who finally looked up from her phone, her face burning red. "You wrote a three-page chore list, Paige. You didn't write it because you were tired. You wrote it because you liked having someone to look down on. You liked feeling like the lady of the manor while I was the hired help."
"I was just trying to keep the house clean!" Paige sputtered, her voice high and defensive.
"Well, the house is locked now, isn't it?" I asked. "And the rental agency has already sent Carson a bill for $2,400 in property damages for the unregistered pets and unauthorized occupancy."
Carson let out a strangled groan, burying his face in his hands. "No... please, no..."
"What damages?!" Evelyn shrieked, standing up from her armchair. "They have no right! Garrett, do something!"
"I'm not doing a damn thing," Garrett growled, turning his back on his mother. "I'm already out five hundred bucks for the groceries, the truck gas, and the boat slip I had to cancel. Carson owes me twelve hundred dollars, Mom. If he doesn't pay me back by the end of the month, I'm taking his golf clubs and selling them on Craigslist."
"Garrett! He is your brother!" Evelyn wailed.
"He's a liar," Garrett said bluntly, walking out of the frame. The heavy sound of the front door slamming echoed through the speaker.
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The family council had collapsed in less than four minutes.
***
