Chapter 6 - The Meltdown in Scottsdale
Dad’s scream was so loud when I answered the phone that the passengers waiting at the baggage claim carousel turned to look at me.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he roared, his voice shaking with such sheer, apocalyptic rage that he could barely form words. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ACCOUNT?!”
I pulled my rolling bag off the carousel, nestled my phone between my shoulder and my ear, and walked calmly toward the airport exit into the bright, crisp Colorado sunshine.
“Good afternoon, Dad,” I said smoothly. “How’s the weather in Arizona?”
“Don't you play cute with me, you thief!” he screamed. Mom’s hysterical voice could be heard in the background, shrieking about fraud and banks. “A charge for thirty-five hundred dollars at a pet spa?! Did you break into my house and take my card?! I am calling the police! I am having you arrested for grand larceny!”
“You might want to check the signature on that receipt before you call the Grand Rapids Police Department,” I replied, stepping into the taxi line. “It wasn't me.”
The line went completely dead for five seconds.
“What?” Dad choked out.
“It was Nolan,” I said, letting the words hang in the air like an anvil. “Your golden boy. The one who could do no wrong. He’s the one who took the dogs to Whistling Pines. He’s the one who used his authorized card to pay for it.”
“You’re lying,” Dad gasped, though the certainty in his voice had collapsed. “Nolan wouldn't do that. Nolan is in Aspen!”
“Call him,” I said. “Oh, and by the way, Dad? You might want to ask him about the locks, too.”
I hung up.
Across the country, in a luxury resort in Scottsdale, Arthur Miller was standing on a sun-drenched balcony overlooking a championship golf course, staring at his phone as if it had transformed into a venomous snake.
He dialed Nolan immediately.
Nolan answered from the passenger seat of Chloe’s car, cruising down the highway toward northern Michigan.
“Dad,” Nolan said, his voice completely flat.
“Nolan, what is your sister talking about?” Dad demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. “She claims you spent thirty-five hundred dollars on a kennel! Tell me she stole your card. Tell me she’s framing you!”
“She’s not framing me, Dad,” Nolan said, each word deliberate and measured. “I did it. I drove over to your house this morning. I saw what you did.”
“What I did?! I left them in their home!”
“You left them in a freezing house with half a bowl of water and locked all the doors!” Nolan’s voice rose, breaking through the calm facade. “Cooper is twelve years old, Dad! He couldn't even stand up on the hardwood because his hips were stiff from the cold! You left them there to die just to win an argument with Audrey!”
“We were only going to be gone ten days! Audrey was supposed to come!”
“Audrey told you three weeks ago she wasn't coming!” Nolan roared into the phone, finally letting loose years of repressed guilt and realization. “You gambled with our dogs’ lives because your ego is so bloated you couldn't stand the idea of being told ‘no’! Well, guess what, Dad? The gamble failed. Cooper and Millie are at Whistling Pines. They have heated floors, daily physical therapy, and people who actually care whether they survive the night.”
“You cancel that card right now!” Dad ordered, his authority crumbling into hysterical panic. “You go back there and put them back in the house!”
“I can’t,” Nolan replied coldly.
“What do you mean you can’t?!”
“I changed the locks.”
A horrifying silence fell over the line. In Scottsdale, Mom dropped her cocktail glass; it shattered on the terracotta tiles of the balcony.
“You… you did what?” Dad whispered.
“I changed the deadbolts and the garage codes,” Nolan said. “The locksmith just finished. The house is completely secured. And you won't be getting the new keys until you pay the kennel bill in full, reimburse Audrey for the expenses she incurred during my wedding, and apologize to her publicly.”
“You can’t lock me out of my own house!” Dad screamed, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. “I will call the sheriff! I will have you disowned! I will cut you out of the will, Nolan! Every single cent! Chloe’s inheritance, your trust, all of it!”
Nolan laughed. It was a bitter, broken sound, but behind it was the unmistakable snap of a chain breaking.
“Keep your money, Dad,” Nolan said. “After seeing what it turned you into, Chloe and I don't want a dime of it. Have a great time in Scottsdale. The invoice from Whistling Pines is set to auto-renew every Monday.”
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Nolan hung up and blocked the number.
***