PART 3 

The locksmith was done before lunchtime.

He gave me three fresh keys and asked if I needed any additional copies.

“No.”

I attached one to my key ring, stored another inside the little safe in my office, and handed the last one to my neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez, because she had cared for my cat during two business trips and had never entered my home without messaging me beforehand.

That decision made me realize something I had been refusing to face.

The issue was never simply that other people possessed keys.

It was that my relatives believed being family meant they did not need permission.

Mom phoned me later that afternoon.

“I tested my key.”

I was in the middle of the grocery store.

“Why?”

“I was bringing back the casserole dish you forgot Sunday.”

“You could have called.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“That’s exactly the reason I replaced the locks.”

She fell silent.

Then she said, “That really hurts.”

I believed she meant it.

I still kept the new locks.

Dad reacted more angrily.

He said it was completely unnecessary and pointed out that nobody had d@maged my property or taken anything from me.

He was correct.

Nothing had been stolen.

No furniture had been broken.

Nobody had secretly thrown a party while I was gone.

The issue with boundaries was much quieter than that.

They had begun arranging things around access they simply assumed belonged to them.

That alone was enough.

Brenna refused to talk to me for nearly a week.

When she eventually called, she immediately brought up Thanksgiving.

“Caleb’s parents already believe they’re staying with us.”

“Then you’ll have to correct them.”

“They already bought plane tickets.”

“They can still come visit Kansas City.”

“Hotels cost a lot.”

“I know.”

There was a brief silence.

“So you aren’t hosting?”

“I never said that.”

“You replaced the locks.”

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