Dad looked down at the keys in his hand for a second like he was deciding something.
Then he said, real calm, “Alright. If we’re voting now, I guess I should probably tell everybody the rest too.”
Nobody moved.
My stepbrother was still standing there smiling like he’d already won something.
Dad walked over to the front door and opened it.
Outside, sitting at the curb, was a county sheriff’s SUV.
You could actually hear my stepmother stop breathing for a second.
Dad looked back at her and said, “I called them this morning before y’all got here.”
Her youngest son laughed nervous. “Called them for what?”
Dad held up the keys. “Because I got tired of being informed about decisions in my own house after y’all already made them.”
My stepmother started talking fast after that. “Frank, nobody’s trying to hurt you—”
But Dad kept going like she hadn’t spoken.
“I retired. I didn’t die.”
The kitchen got dead quiet.
Then he pointed toward the boxes stacked by the stairs.
“And since you boys already packed so much,” he said, “you can start with your own rooms.”
My stepbrother’s face changed immediately. “Our rooms?”
Dad nodded once. “The upstairs bedrooms are becoming offices again.”
My stepmother actually laughed a little like this was all some misunderstanding. “Frank, where exactly do you expect us to go?”
Dad picked his coffee cup back up.
“The same place you expected me to go.”