Lock Out My Parents and Lose It All

I spent one million dollars of my own money installing a smart access-control system throughout Crescent Bay. The day it was installed, the property manager promised me, "Tell us if you ever need anything. We'll make sure it's taken care of." That promise lasted until this New Year's, when my parents came to stay with me. The temperatures were well below freezing that day, but my elderly parents were forced to stand outside the entrance while they tried the facial-recognition system three times. The gate didn't budge. The security guard took one look at them and snapped impatiently, "You two aren't in the system. You can't come in." I called the property manager the second I heard about it. "They're my parents. It's well below freezing outside. Can you at least let them in?" He hesitated. "Ms. Lind, it's not that I don't want to make an exception. But who's going to be responsible if something bad happens after they come in?" He hung up before I could say another word. I immediately pulled up the number for the contractor who installed the system. "Hello. I need you to remove all six main control units at Crescent Bay. Yes, the ones installed at the East Gate, South Gate, and underground parking garage." Chapter 1 Locked Out After I hung up, I stood on the balcony, my palms icy cold. It was 9°F outside. I hastily pulled up my call history and called my mother. She answered almost immediately. I could hear the wind howling in the background. "Sylvia, we're at the entrance. The gate won't let us in. You go ahead and do what you need to do. We can wait a little while longer." I tightened my grip on my phone. "Mom, you and Dad walk ahead. There's a hotel nearby. Go inside and wait in the lobby. I'll be there soon." "No, no. We can just stand here for a little while," she replied. "Mom, listen to me. It's freezing out there. Go there and get yourself something hot to drink." My mother was silent for two seconds. "Okay. We'll go there." I hung up, grabbed my coat from the couch, and called the office as I headed out. My supervisor answered, "Sylvia, about this afternoon's proposal meeting—" "Mr. Chambers, I have an emergency at home. I need to take the afternoon off." "How serious is it? The client is coming this afternoon—" I cut him off. "My parents are stuck at the entrance to my building. It's below freezing, and they can't get in." There was a pause before he said, "Okay. You go ahead and take care of it. Call me if anything comes up." I didn't say thank you before hanging up. The elevator descended, and the signal kept cutting in and out. I stared at the floor numbers as they ticked down one by one. 18. 17. 16… My phone vibrated. My mother was calling. I answered. "Sylvia…" Her voice was low and slightly panicked. "The security guard won't let us leave." My fingers tightened around the phone. "What do you mean?" "We just started walking to the hotel like you said, but the guard came out and told us to stop. He asked what we were doing hanging around here." My mother paused. "I told him we were going to wait at a hotel, but he wouldn't let us go. He said we looked suspicious and that he was going to call the police." The elevator arrived at the lobby. I immediately strode out. "Mom, put the guard on the phone." I heard rustling, footsteps, and the wind. Then, a man's voice came through, impatient and rough from years of smoking. "Hello? Are you related to these two?" "I'm Sylvia Lind. I own Unit 2201 in Tower 3 at Crescent Bay. They're my parents. They came from out of town to spend the holidays with me." I tightened my grip on my coat. "It's one thing that you wouldn't let them in because of a system malfunction. So, I'm having them wait at a hotel instead. Is there a problem with that?" The guard scoffed. "How do I know whether you're lying? Besides, who's going to be held responsible if they do something?" "They're both around 70! They took a train more than 600 miles just to get here. It's 9°F outside. What exactly do you think they're going to do?" I snapped. "How should I know?" The guard sounded completely unconcerned. "There are all kinds of people out there. Plenty of scammers look perfectly respectable on the outside. I'm just looking out for the safety of everyone in the community." Then, he hung up on me. I stood outside the building entrance as the cold wind blew down my collar. I didn't call him back. Instead, I opened the residents' group chat, intending to find the property manager and demand an explanation. Then, I saw the two photos the security guard had posted. My mother was standing outside the gate in the first picture, her scarf covering half her face, the faded canvas bag she was carrying hanging from one hand. My father was looking down at his ID in the second. The wind had tousled his graying hair. The photos came with a caption. "Crescent Bay Tower 3 Entrance: Two unidentified elderly people repeatedly failed facial recognition at the entrance and appeared suspicious. We have contacted the authorities. Please remind your family members not to open the gate for strangers." Chapter 2 No Exceptions Someone replied a mere three minutes after the message was posted, "Good job, management. They need to stop people like them from getting in. What happens if something goes wrong? What if they're casing the place? "It's almost New Year's, and there are more thieves around this time of year." "Exactly. They can't just let them in." I stared at the screen. That was my mother they were talking about. The scarf she was wearing was one I'd bought for her last year. She'd said she didn't want to wear it and had saved it just for the New Year's. That canvas bag had been mine throughout college. I'd used it for four years. Later, I told my mother to keep it around when she said she wanted to throw it away. She'd held onto it ever since, bringing it all the way here from our hometown. I zoomed in on the photo. My mother was standing in the wind, squinting as if she were looking for something. I started typing. My hands were shaking. "That's my parents. I'm Sylvia Lind, the owner of Unit 2201 in Tower 3. They came to spend New Year's with me." I sent it. The group went quiet for a few seconds. Then, someone replied, "So what? If they're not registered in the system, they can't come in. The rules apply to everyone. Owners don't get special treatment either. Won't they pin the blame on management if they get hurt after coming in?" "Exactly. It's not like they're being kept out. Just register their faces, and they can come in. The security guard is just following procedure." I didn't respond. I left the group chat, pulled up my call history, and called the property manager. It rang eight times before he finally answered, "Ms. Lind, I heard about what happened. It's not that I'm unwilling to make an exception…" "How long have they been standing outside?" "The security guard was just following procedure…" "Let them in," I snapped. "Ms. Lind, I really can't do that. They're not registered in the system. I won't be able to cover my bases if something happens after I let them in. Why don't you come over? It shouldn't be far from your office." "I'm already on my way." "Okay. When you get here, you can take them in yourself. I'll tell the guard. About what happened today—" I hung up. Then, I called my mother. She answered after two rings. Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid someone might hear her. "Sylvia, we're fine. Don't worry. The police are coming, and everything will be alright once we talk to them." I could hear the howling wind in the background, and then I heard my father coughing. "Mom, are you still standing out in the wind?" "No, no. We're by that little pavilion nearby. It's not that cold." There was no pavilion by the entrance to Crescent Bay, only a row of bare stone benches. I gripped my phone until my knuckles turned white. "Mom, keep the phone by your ear. Don't hang up." "Okay." I ran to the side of the road and flagged down a cab. The wind rushed into my throat, dry and bitterly cold. The cab pulled up at Crescent Bay's East Gate 20 minutes later. I saw my parents as soon as I tumbled out of the vehicle. They were standing outside the gate, separated from the entrance by the metal fence like two strangers who'd been turned away at the door. My mother saw me first and forced a smile on her face. "Sylvia, you're here!" I walked over. My mother's face was red from the wind. The tip of her nose was numb with cold, and tiny flecks of frost clung to her eyelashes. My father stood beside her without saying a word. He only gave a light cough when he saw me. I took my mother's hand. It was as cold as ice. I took off my coat and draped it over her shoulders. "No, no. You should wear it," she urged. "I'm warm." I turned around. The window of the security booth was open. The man who'd been smoking earlier was leaning against it, looking at his phone. I walked over. "Open the gate." He looked up, studied me for a moment, and recognized me. "You're the owner, right? You can't take them in yet. The police are on their way. We have to wait for them to take a look at the suspects before we can let them through." Chapter 3 My Mother's Bag "They've been standing outside the gate for 40 minutes! What else are we still waiting for?" I growled. "Routine questioning." He stubbed out his cigarette. "It's not just you. Everyone needs to cooperate." I stared at him. "Let them go inside. I'll wait here." He shook his head. "No. Who's going to be held responsible if they leave now? Besides, it'll only take a few minutes. It'll be over once the police have a quick chat with them." My mother gently tugged on my sleeve from behind. "Sylvia, it's okay. We can wait a little longer. We'll have everything straightened out once the officers get here." I took a deep breath. Then, I turned around and handed my parents the keys. "Mom, Dad, you two should go upstairs without me. Tower 3, Unit 2201." My father didn't take the keys from me. "What about you?" "I'll wait for the police. I'll be right up after I talk to them." My mother shook her head. "No. How can we leave you here alone?" I put a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, listen to me. You and Dad should go. It's too cold out here." She looked like she wanted to say something. "Go upstairs and put some water on to boil," I said. "I really want something warm when I get up there." She paused for a moment. "Okay." My father glanced at me. "It'll be quick. Don't worry," I said. He said nothing, merely nodding slightly in response. My mother gripped the keys, taking a few steps before looking back at me each time. I waved her on. She went through the gate. My eyes never left her retreating figure until she disappeared into the elevator lobby. I turned around. The security guard was leaning against the window, looking deeply unhappy. "They're gone. What are you going to say when the police get here?" I didn't look at him. "Whatever I say has nothing to do with you." He fell silent. A police cruiser arrived ten minutes later. Two young officers got out. Their manner was strictly professional. The security guard went over to them and pointed toward the building. "The two elderly people from earlier are already inside." One of the officers looked at him. "Were you the one who called to report suspicious people?" "I was, but the unit owner came and said they were her parents, so I let them in." The officer turned to me. "Are you the unit owner?" "I'm the owner of Tower 3, Unit 2201. Sylvia Lind. Those two are my parents. They came from our hometown to spend the holidays with me." He nodded. "How long have they been inside?" "They just went up." "All right. We'll go in and take a look. Don't worry. This will be over in a jiffy." The security guard spoke up from beside us. "Officer, I was just following the rules…" The officer ignored him and walked into the building. We all headed toward Tower 3. I heard a commotion up ahead just as we crossed the courtyard. Several residents had gathered outside the entrance, surrounding something or someone on the ground. I froze in my tracks. My mother's faded canvas bag was strewn apart in the middle of the crowd. It had been dumped open, its contents scattered across the ground. Dried cranberries, walnuts, a bag of dried mushrooms, two food containers, and several pairs of knitted socks were tossed on the ground like trash. My mother was crouched on the ground, picking everything up one piece at a time. My father stood beside her, blocked by the crowd. A woman in a cashmere coat pointed at the things on the ground. "We searched her bag. There's no knife." Another person spoke up. "That doesn't mean we can just let them go. What if there really is one? The security guard made it pretty clear that they were dangerous in the group chat." A surge of anger went through me as I stomped over. My mother looked up. The moment she saw me, her first reaction was to smile. "Sylvia, it's okay. Nothing broke." She was clutching a pair of knitted socks. There were little red flowers embroidered on the soles, crooked and uneven. Last year, I'd casually mentioned on the phone that the heated floors at work were so hot they made my feet hurt. She had remembered. I crouched down, took the socks from her, and put them back in the bag. Then, I stood up. "Who did this?" I demanded. No one dared to breathe a word. Eventually, the woman in the cashmere coat took a step back. "We were just afraid they might wander off, so we asked them to wait over here." "I asked, who did this?" I snarled. A middle-aged man finally said, "I did. There was a message in the group chat saying two suspicious elderly people had entered the complex and might be carrying a knife. As a member of the homeowners' committee, it's my responsibility to keep everyone safe." Chapter 4 The Cost of an Apology I looked at my mother's wrist. There was a red mark circling around it, digging deep into her skin. A police officer walked over. "What happened? Who did this?" The middle-aged man stepped forward, his tone immediately softening. "Officer, it was just a misunderstanding. The security guard must've made a mistake. We were only concerned about the committee's safety. She's fine. An apology should settle it." The officer ignored him and turned to my mother. "Ma'am, you tell me. What happened?" My mother tugged her sleeve down over her wrist. "It's nothing, officer. Everyone meant well. They were worried there might be bad people." She paused. "I'm not hurt." The officer glanced at her wrist, and then at the dried cranberries and walnuts scattered across the ground. He said nothing. The younger officer who had come with him went through the things that had spilled from my mother's bag. Dried cranberries. Walnuts. Dried mushrooms. Knitted socks. Two food containers, one filled with roast beef and the other with fried chicken. He photographed everything with his department-issued camera before straightening. "There's nothing prohibited in her bag." He looked at the middle-aged man and the other residents. "Who called the police?" The security guard spoke up sheepishly. "I was just being cautious…" "Do you understand that making a false police report can have legal consequences?" he questioned sharply. All color drained from the guard's face as he blurted, "Officer, I didn't mean to. I was just concerned about the community's safety." The officer didn't bother dignifying that with a response. He simply turned to me and asked, "Would you like to settle this here, or do you want to come to the station?" I looked at my mother. Her head was hung low as she tried to tie the strap of her canvas bag. It had snapped during the altercation. She tied two knots before slinging the bag over her shoulder. "Let's go, Sylvia. Let's go home," she murmured softly. "It's cold outside." I turned around. "Let's settle it here." The officer nodded. "All right. Here's our number. Contact us if you need any help." He glanced at the people around us. "If anyone owes her an apology, do it now and show some sincerity while you're at it." The woman in the cashmere coat quickly said, "Sorry, ma'am." Then, she turned and left just like that. The middle-aged man coughed awkwardly before muttering, "It was just a misunderstanding. Don't take it to heart." He left as well. The security guard stood off to the side, not daring to say a word. The officers left. Soon, the area fell silent. I crouched down and picked up the walnuts one by one, putting them back into my mother's bag. When we got home, I hurried to pour my parents each a cup of hot water. Then, my phone rang. It was the construction crew. I answered. "Ms. Lind, we're at the East Gate. Should we start taking it down, or talk to property management first?" I glanced out the window. The sun was already sinking toward the horizon, its light angling through the glass and falling across the floor. "Take them down now." "All six?" "All of them." "Got it." I hung up. My mother looked at me. "Who was that?" "The construction crew. The old access-control system has been acting up, so I asked them to come take a look at it." My mother nodded and didn't ask any more questions. She picked up her cup and took a sip of hot water. The sun sank a little lower outside the window. My phone rang again about ten minutes later. It was the property manager. I answered. "Ms. Lind!" His voice was tight. "The construction crew is here. They say they're taking down the access-control system. What's going on?"