While I was at work, my parents, my sister, and her two kids were already hauling boxes into my mountain house. Mom smiled like it was settled. “We all live here now. It’s family property.” They planned their big “move-in day.” I planned something else.

I wasn’t being dramatic. I wasn’t being selfish. I wasn’t being unreasonable.

I was defending my home.

A quiet knock sounded at the open front door. I turned quickly, heart pounding.

“I made muffins,” Mrs. Rowan said gently as she stepped in, hands clutching a small container covered with foil. Her face was warm, though worry softened the corners of her eyes. “Thought you might need something to eat.”

My shoulders loosened a fraction.

“Thank you,” I said. “I… it’s been a lot.”

She nodded sympathetically.

“I can only imagine.”

We stood there quietly for a moment, the wind rustling through the pines.

“I found a glove on the porch this morning,” I said finally. “A leather one. Not from the movers.”

Her brows knitted together.

“A glove? What kind of glove?”

“Leather. Men’s.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Well, I didn’t want to worry you, but last night I thought I heard someone on your property. Around eleven. My dog started barking, so I looked out the back window. Didn’t see anything, but I felt something. Like someone was watching.”

Ice slid through my chest.

“Lydia drove by this morning,” I murmured. “I think it was her. Or someone else from the family.”

She nodded.