Chapter 9 - The Eviction
If firing them from the company was a strategic strike, what came next was the killing blow.
Later that afternoon, a sleek black town car pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the Miller estate. The very same gates where, not long ago, Florence had thrown a lavish party for a mistress. I stepped out of the car, accompanied by Evelyn and two county sheriffs.
Florence was on the front patio, frantically pacing while shouting at a mover over the phone. When she saw the sheriffs, she froze, her face turning a sickly shade of gray. Raymond rushed out the front door, stopping dead in his tracks.
"What is this?" Raymond demanded, panic raising the pitch of his voice.
I didn't speak. I let Evelyn do the talking.
"Mr. Miller, Mrs. Miller," Evelyn said, handing them a clipboard. "You are hereby served with a formal thirty-day notice of eviction. As you know, this property is a corporate asset of Pacific Oak Crafting. The new majority ownership has decided to liquidate this asset. You have exactly one month to vacate the premises."
Florence let out a wail that sounded entirely inhuman. She collapsed onto one of the patio chairs, hyperventilating. "My house! My home! You can't take my home! We are the Millers!"
"You're tenants," I corrected her gently. "And your lease is up."
Raymond walked toward me, his hands raised in surrender. There was no anger left in him, only a pathetic, hollow desperation. "Brenda... please. Where will we go? Mom needs care. I have no money. The bank accounts are frozen. We have nothing."
I looked at him, really looked at him, and felt completely empty. This was the man who had mocked me outside the courthouse. This was the man who had promised I would come crawling back when I realized how hard it was to raise four daughters alone.
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"When you realize that starting over is harder than you think," I repeated his exact words back to him, my voice carrying over the quiet breeze of the garden, "don't call me."
I turned on my heel and walked back to the town car, leaving them to the ruins of their own making.
