The New Owner of the Cottage — “We’ll Be Staying at Your Chalet All Summer Long,” Declared My Brother.

I recall how my brother declared, Well spend the entire summer at your cottage, as if it were a simple plan.

I had barely found the words to protest when I decided Id had enough of these uninvited guests; it was time they were shown the door.

Pulling the gardening bags from the boot, a familiar calm settled over me. My modest plotsix hundred square metres of greenwas my sanctuary. Yet something was amiss. From beyond the fence drifted the strains of an old pop ballad, and at the gate I froze. The lock was not just broken; it had been torn out with the hinges.

What on earth? I muttered, nudging the gate.

What I saw beyond resembled a scene from a horror film for horticulturists. There, lounging in my hammock, was Violet, my brothers wife and, to my mind, the queen of anyones deck chairs. In one hand she clutched a glass of pink liquid; the other held a mobile phone. She wore my old bathrobethe shaggy one a colleague had given me for my fortyfifth birthday. From my barbecue sizzled something that smoked and crackled.

Ian! My shout was so loud the blossoms fell from the nearest apple tree.

Ian emerged from the house, brandishing my garden shears. His Tshirt, emblazoned with Give me a pint and a hug, strained against his belly.

Oh, dear! he laughed, as if breaking into someone elses home were perfectly normal. We thought wed give you a surprise.

You broke the lock? I lowered the bags slowly to the ground.

It wasnt intentional, Ian scratched his head. The thing just gave way.

From the shrubbery sprang a boy in orange shorts.

Auntie Violet! Got a net? Well be catching lizards this evening!

I squinted. It must have been Oliver, the eldest nephew, or perhaps Charlie; I always mixed them up.

You broke my cottage? I enunciated each word as if I were practising for an angermanagement course.

Oh, Tonya, youre finally here! Violet finally rose from the hammock, her robe slipping to reveal tanned legs.

We decided to bring a little life into this place without you.

Violet, youre in my robe, I hissed.

Its so soft! she cooed, stroking the lapel as though it were a mink coat. Why leave it hanging? A robe is meant to be worn!

From the house, through open windows, came a clatter and a shout.

My nephews are destroying my books! I recognised the sound instantly. My collection of Agatha Christie novels, which I kept on the cottage shelf for a quiet read, tumbled from the shelves.

Kids were playing, Ian grimaced. They built a fort out of them. Very symbolic, really.

Symbolic? I raised an eyebrow. You know whats also symbolic? That I asked you not to come without me, especially after you burned my gazebo last time!

The candle fell on its own, we were having a romantic evening! Ian protested. And that was last year. Weve grown as people.

Indeed, Violet nodded. Ive taken up psychology now. Your sibling rivalry is just a echo of childhood traumas.

I closed my eyes and counted to tenno effect. I kept counting to twenty.

Gather your things and leave, I said as calmly as I could. Now.

But weve only just arrived! Ian cried. And the meat

Leave the meat and go, I turned toward the car. And make sure you havent taken my silver forks by accident.

Our forks? Theyre not even real metal! Ian shouted after me.

I slipped into the car, the engine roaring to life, my hands trembling with fury.

After sending them off, I poured a strong cup of tea with a slice of chocolate and wept a little, cursing my luck.

For seven years I had scrimped, saved every penny, and finally bought the cottage of my dreams. I planted hydrangeas, drank tea from my grandmothers china, and toiled in the vegetable beds. Most of all, it was my placenothing shared with Vadim, my exhusband, nothing communal, just mine. A full stop.

The phone rang; it was my mother, Helen, a seasoned peacekeeper with a doctorate in keeping the kids happy.

Darling, why are you fighting with your brother? she asked.

Im not fighting; they smashed my home.

Maybe the lock was just faulty, she suggested.

It was completely broken, I replied, fighting the urge to bang my head on the table.

Your brothers just trying to get by, dear. Hes your only kin.

If hes my only kin, I must be an atheist, I muttered. Theyve turned my garden into a battlefieldmy books into forts, my robe into a costume for Violet.

Theyre just kids, my mother soothed. Boys will be boys.

Theyre twelve, theyre little barbarians! I retorted.

She sighed. Very well. You dont love your nephews, you dont love your brother, you dont love me, or anyone, do you?

I hung up, recognising her classic tactic: when facts fail, pull at the heartstrings and parental guilt.

Ill go to bed, I said wearily. Work tomorrow.

Think about it, Tonya, my mother urged. Theyre family.

I pressed end and slumped on the sofa, wondering what more Ian could do to finally make my mother side with me.

Ian was not one to give up; stubborn as a mule, he texted: Shall we spend the whole summer at the cottage? Violet will be happy, the kids will have fun.

I set the phone down, poured myself a cup of black coffee, and let the bitterness sharpen my thoughts.

The whole summer? All three months?

I almost called Ian to unload every grievance I held against him, his wife, and their offspring.

Calm down, Tonya, I told myself out loud. Youre an adult, you can handle this.

I looked into the mirror, nodded, and dialed.

Ian, are you serious about staying the whole summer?

Whats it to you? his voice sounded relaxed, as if he were lounging in a deck chairmy deck chair!

Youre not opposed, are you? Youre a good person.

Im kind, but not foolish, I snapped. This is my cottage.

Youre odd, Ian chuckled. Were just looking after the property for you.

Remember when you cut my roses for a friend? he asked.

So what? I replied. She was pleased.

I breathed deeply, counted to ten, then to a hundred, to no avail.

Violet wants to say something! Ian added cheerfully.

The line crackled, and Violets voice burst in, as sweet as a market seller hawking a bargain. The boys love your garden, the fresh air does them good. Be a good aunt, will you?

Its my private property, I said evenly, youre here without permission. Had I asked, perhaps I would have let you.

See? If Id allowed it, everything would be fine.

I realised arguing with her was futile.

Fine, I said feigning calm, enjoy yourselves.

Tonya, are you upset? Ian asked suddenly, his tone softening.

No, I smiled, though he could not see it. Im going to sort this out.

At the estate agents office, the smell of coffee mingled with a palpable despondencymostly mine. A poised lady across the desk turned the photos of my cottage on a tablet.

Are you sure you want to sell? she asked, eyes narrowing. Theres a good market for properties like this.

Yes, I replied, nodding so hard my neck ached. The sooner the better.

Rushing? she raised an eyebrow.

Im shedding excess baggage, I said with a weary smile. New goals, you knowlike removing my brother from my life.

The property is solid, she mused, tapping the screen. I already have a potential buyer.

Relief washed over me; everything was falling into place.

The buyer turned out to be a respectable man named Edward Whitlock, about fifty, with a silvergray beard that shone like a billiard ball and eyes that could cool the hottest summer day. He studied the photos, asked three pertinent questions, and nodded.

Ill take it.

Dont you want to see the land in person? I asked, surprised.

I trust the picturesand your honesty.

I hesitated. Theres a small occasional family visit.

Problem? his expression didnt waver.

Not a legal issue, just it might be awkward.

It matters not, he replied. Im buying the land, not the guests. When can we sign?

We arranged for the following Saturday, the very day Ian had planned a grand picnic for the neighbours. He hadnt told merumour had travelled via my motherso I feared another lockbreaking surprise.

Well, brother, lets see who gets the last laugh!

When we arrived, the plot buzzed like a beehive: neighbours cars, an inflatable pool on the lawn, music blaring, barbecues smoking, children shrieking. A proper celebration of life.

Is it always like this? Edward asked, stepping out of his black 4×4.

Only when my brother shows up, I sighed.

We passed through the gate, and the first person we saw was Violet, emerging with a massive bowl of salad.

Tonya! she shouted. We were waiting for you!

My plans have changed, I replied, smiling. Meet Edward Whitlock, and theres Mr. Simon Hartley, a solicitor.

Delighted! Violet beamed, winking suggestively. Friends of Tonya? Or something more?

Its just business, Edward said calmly. Ive bought the cottage.

Violet froze, salad bowl in hand.

What do you meanowner? Edward explained. Ms. Carter sold the parcel to me. Here are the deeds.

He slapped the folder. But how could Violets face paled. Ian!

From my own barbecuemy ownemerged Ian, apron on, skewer in hand, a grin of a man who thought he owned the world.

Tonya! We thought youd tossed us out! he shouted joyfully.

Id fling you out if I could, I muttered.

Ian, Tonyas sold the cottage! Violet shrieked.

Ian stood, skewer still poised, stunned.

What?

I sold it, I said slowly, clearly. Edward Whitlock is the new owner. The solicitor is here to finalize everything.

I braced for a tirade, accusations, a shouting match. Instead, Ian lowered his arms and asked quietly, Why?

The question caught me off guard.

Because you entered my home without permission, I replied. Because you assume everything thats mine is automatically yours. Because you disregard my boundaries. Im fed up. Its easier to rid myself of this cottage than to endure the strife.

What now? Ian asked, eyes downcast.

Its time you pack up and leave, Edward interjected. Right now. This is private property.

But we planned to stay the whole summer! Violet protested. We even have a tent!

Take it with you, Edward said. I dont like uninvited guests.

Ian ripped off his apron and flung it onto the grass. Its a cursed trap! Coming here, digging in these beds Normal folk fly to Cyprus, not muck about in garden beds!

Fine then, off to Cyprus you go, I said. Youre cruel, you say this is our family nest.

What nonsense is that? I crossed my arms. I bought this place with my own savings. Your contribution was a single remark, why do you need the cottage?

Violet grabbed Ians elbow. Lets go. Its clear now.

Turning to me, she warned, Youll regret this, Tonya.

I doubt it, I smiled. At least I wont watch you turn my garden into a battlefield.

At that moment the nephews burst from the house, followed by a handful of local children.

Auntie Tonya! shouted Charlie, perhaps OliverWe were bouncing on the sofa like trampolines!

The sofa?! I gasped. Are you out of your minds?

Enough, Edward said, pulling out his phone. Im calling the police. You have half an hour to collect your things and vacate.

He dialed deliberately, the fear on Ian and Violets faces was the reward for my years of patience.

Later, my mother sat across the kitchen table, concern etched on her face.

Tonya, love, how are you? she asked. No regrets?

None, mum, I replied honestly.

Hes still angry, she sighed.

Hell get over it, I shrugged. Hes an expert at justifying himself whatever the circumstances.

Two months after the sale, Ian and I hadnt spoken, and he hadnt called either. It was perhaps the longest silence between us since he learned to ask why the sky is blue and where babies come from.

Hes still your brother, my mother said, a hint of old pressure in her voice.

I know, I answered. Ill always be his sister, but that doesnt mean I must endure everything he creates.

She fell silent, cradling her tea.

What will you do with the money from the cottage? she asked.

Not decided yetmaybe save it, maybe splurge somewhere, I replied lightly. You dont need to waste a clever mind on it.

In truth, Id already spent it on a new cottage far away, already landscaping it, and Id keep that to myselfno address to share.

I learned a simple truth: wherever something good exists in your life, someone will try to spoil it. This time, I wont let that happen again.