Chapter 3
Series 1 Chapter 3
I read the list twice.
Not because I had misunderstood it, but because I wanted to see whether anyone else had been assigned an actual job.
Daniel was responsible for music, which meant connecting his phone to the speakers.
Emily would take photographs.
Mark’s job was to pick up Evelyn—a task he had already completed.
Brooke would “host Saturday dinner.”
“What exactly does ‘host dinner’ mean?” I asked.
“I’ll welcome everyone, keep things moving, make the toast.”
“And who cooks the dinner?”
Brooke tapped the line beside my name.
“You do. You’re better at it.”
Of course I was.
I was also apparently better at grocery shopping, setting tables, collecting the cake, making breakfast, and cleaning the entire house on Sunday.
“You know where everything is,” Brooke continued. “It would take twice as long if we split it between people.”
In the Harper family, competence was not rewarded.
It was punished with more work.
Mark glanced at the schedule. “Everyone has a job, Claire.”
“Daniel has a playlist. Emily has a camera. Your job is already finished, and Brooke gets to make a speech.”
“You always handle the food when we host.”
“Because you volunteer me before I know we’re hosting.”
His mouth tightened. “This is my mother’s seventieth birthday. Everyone is counting on us.”
“No. Everyone is counting on me. You’re just the one who promised them I’d do it.”
I picked up the pen.
One by one, I drew a line through every task beside my name.
Friday dinner.
Saturday breakfast.
Groceries.
Cake pickup.
Table setup.
Sunday cleanup.
Brooke stared at the page.
“What are you doing?”
“Correcting the schedule.”
“You can’t just refuse everything.”
“You assigned it without asking. I can refuse it without asking.”
Her face hardened. “So you’re going to punish the entire family because you didn’t get the bedroom you wanted?”
“The bedroom I own.”
“It’s three nights, Claire. Stop being dramatic.”
Evelyn pressed one hand to her chest.
“If helping me is such a burden, you should have said so years ago.”
The words landed exactly where she intended them to.
“I did help,” I said. “For years. That’s why all of you assumed you could keep assigning me more.”
Evelyn looked at Mark, waiting for him to manage me.
He stepped closer. “Can we discuss this privately?”
“We could have, two weeks ago.”
I folded the schedule and placed it on the counter. Then I picked up my bags again.
“I’m sleeping in my bedroom tonight.”
Emily finally looked up. “I can move. It’s okay.”
“No,” Brooke said quickly. “We are not rearranging the entire house because Claire is having a moment.”
I looked at Emily.
“This isn’t your fault. But it is my room.”
Mark followed me with his eyes. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”
“Wherever you volunteered yourself to sleep.”
I had almost reached the stairs when Brooke called after me.
“What about dinner?”
“You’re the host. Host.”
“I can’t cook for this many people.”
“Order pizza.”
“That might work tonight, but it won’t solve tomorrow.”
I stopped.
“What’s happening tomorrow?”
Brooke glanced at Mark.
He moved between us. “Claire, we were going to tell you.”
My grip tightened around the suitcase handle.
“Tell me what?”
Brooke exhaled sharply. “The birthday dinner.”
“I know about the dinner.”
“No, you know we’re having dinner. You don’t know how many people are coming.”
The kitchen went quiet.
“How many?”
Mark opened his mouth, but I kept my eyes on Brooke.
She lifted her chin.
“Forty.”
“Forty people?”
“It’s Mom’s seventieth. What did you expect?”
I looked at the six crossed-out jobs beside my name.
They had invited forty people to my house—and assigned me the privilege of serving them.