Chapter 450: Guests Who Treated the House as Theirs

The great-aunt's amazement lasted less than ten minutes before it became entitlement.

She opened cupboards, inspected the china, and called for the children to choose bedrooms upstairs. Suitcases appeared across the hallway as relatives claimed every available room without asking Daniel Whitmore where anyone should stay.

"The room with the balcony is mine," Denise Carver announced.

Daniel set down a stack of towels. "That is Clara's room."

"She's only visiting. Surely she can sleep on the couch for three nights."

"No."

His answer was quiet enough that Denise almost missed it.

"What?"

"Clara's room is not available. Neither is Helen's study. The guest rooms are prepared, and the children can use the basement den."

The great-aunt struck her cane against the floor. "Family shouldn't count rooms so carefully. In our day, twelve people shared one house without complaint."

"Then the guest rooms should be more than comfortable," Daniel replied.

Before she could argue, a crash sounded from the kitchen.

One of the children had dropped a bowl and walked away from the shards. Another raced through the living room in muddy sneakers, scattering snack wrappers behind him. Someone had opened Helen's display cabinet and left fingerprints across the glass.

Daniel drew a slow breath.

"Shoes off inside," he called. "And no one touches the cabinets."

No one listened.

Howard Carver appeared at his elbow with an apologetic smile. "They're excited. Don't be so strict on the first day."

"Strict would have been asking them to clean what they broke."

In the study, Helen's marked-up manuscript lay exactly where she had left it. Daniel closed and locked the door before curious hands could reach it. Her work had already been delayed by the sudden guests; he would not let it be damaged as well.

Downstairs, the television volume rose. Sunflower seed shells accumulated on the rug. The great-aunt had recruited two relatives to move an armchair because she disliked its position.

Daniel stepped between them and the furniture.

"Leave it there."

"We're only making the place more practical," Denise said.

"It is our home, not a banquet hall."

The room quieted for half a second.

Then a child shouted from upstairs, another slammed a door, and the noise swallowed Daniel's boundary as if he had never spoken.

His phone buzzed. Helen's message said she and Clara were almost home.

Daniel looked at the muddy floor, the wrappers, and the black shoe marks already stamped across a white wall.

He reached for the cleaning supplies, but the doorbell rang before he could erase any of it.