I followed his gaze to the center of the room and saw her: Kimberly, my sister-in-law. She was leaning against the fireplace I had spent weeks repairing, laughing loudly and hosting the crowd as if she were the rightful queen of the manor.
My brother, Jeffrey, stood awkwardly behind her, looking like a man who knew he was committing a crime but lacked the spine to stop it. When Kimberly noticed me, she gave a dismissive wave and continued her conversation without missing a beat.
“Bridget! Grab a drink, dear,” she called out casually. “Your parents are much happier in the corner where it’s quiet and they won’t get underfoot.”
I walked directly up to her, ignoring the guests, and spoke with a chilling level of calm.
“This is their house, Kimberly.”
She let out a sharp, condescending laugh and took a slow sip of her wine before looking me up and down.
“Don’t be so dramatic, we are all family here, and besides, they really don’t need all this extra square footage for just two people.”
My jaw tightened so hard it ached as I took a step closer to her.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”