Chapter 17 - The Invoice on the Table
When we returned to room 304, Tori was lying on the bed, her boots kicked off onto the white linen duvet, scrolling through my iPad which had been charging on the desk.
"Get off that bed," I commanded, my voice slicing through the room like a whip.
Tori jumped, nearly dropping the tablet. "Mom! You're back! Did you get us some food? I looked through your room service menu, but—"
"I just got off the phone with Caleb," I interrupted, walking straight toward the bed.
Tori froze. The artificial innocence vanished from her face, replaced by a defensive, hunted sneer. "He’s lying, Myrna. Whatever he told you, he’s lying to save his own skin."
"He bought you a ticket to Chicago," I said, pointing an accusing finger at her. "He had two boarding passes in his hand at Narita. And you traded yours in to chase me down across Europe because you were too cowardly to face your own children."
Tori stood up slowly, her eyes flashing with pure venom. "You think you’re so righteous, don't you? Sitting here in Europe spending Caleb’s inheritance on fancy hotels while I break my back raising his children!"
"Caleb’s inheritance?" Linda barked a laugh from the doorway. "Honey, Myrna worked thirty-five years as a school administrator! That is her money! Caleb hasn't earned a single cent of it!"
"Shut up!" Tori screamed at Linda, losing all control. "This is between family! You have no right to be here!"
"This is *my* hotel room," I said, stepping between Tori and Linda. "And you are not family to me anymore, Tori. Family does not leave four terrified children in the cold. Family does not lie, steal emergency credit cards, and track down an old woman in Portugal to bully her into fixing a broken marriage."
I reached into my purse, pulled out a crisp hundred-euro note, and tossed it onto the glass coffee table between us.
"That is for a taxi to the airport," I said.
Tori stared at the bill as if I had spat on her. "A hundred euros?! That won't even buy a flight to London, let alone America! How am I supposed to get home?!"
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"That is entirely your problem," I answered calmly. "You have twenty minutes to gather your purse and get out of our room, or I will call hotel security and the Lisbon municipal police to have you removed for trespassing."
***
