Escaping the flatlands of the big city and its suburban neighborhoods, they now took the highway hugging the forested hills. Small pocket cities where the buildings were outnumbered by trees slid by the car’s windows. The navigation app finally gave them an exit to take and Joaquin eased into the bend, curving round a hill. They passed an old trailer park before the homes gradually increased in prominence. The phone led them onto another street, right through a community of luxury builds. Then turning onto a narrower road, trees swarmed them again as Joaquin slowed down. Their destination was near.
“Uh … where’s the house?” asked Joaquin, leaning forward to get a better look out of the windows.
“Oh, there, by that stone pillar!” Helen pointed ahead of them.
Joaquin eased off the gas pedal so as not to miss it.
Beyond the stone pillar was a wooded driveway, winding and meandering as if to hide the expensive real estate beyond. The boughs of mature cedars sheltered the car from a light drizzle while showering them with leafy refuse. As they gradually reached an incline, a low stone wall formed to lead the way to the residence.
Then the tree line broke, revealing a grand house impeccably kempt. The faux craftsman boasted many different sections staggering outward, making it seem even more enormous. Faded brick constituted a couple of the segments’ facades while the rest of the siding was painted a generic beigey-gray complemented with white trim. Large windows stared out at the approaching visitors, casting judgment on the older car model.
“You can park here,” Helen directed. Joaquin turned up the side of the house to a driveway wide enough to host a fleet of vehicles.
Once parked, Helen sat in her seat for a few moments. This was it. This was happening. She inhaled deeply and opened the car door.
While Joaquin gathered their luggage, Helen trudged to the double front doors adorned with two gigantic seasonal wreaths. Helen had to keep her distance lest the pine boughs prick her. She tapped on the video doorbell. A few seconds passed.
“Helen! That’s you, right? You’re here!” came a voice through the speaker.
“Hi, Aunt Lori! Yep, it’s me!” Helen shouted, unsure of how sensitive the microphone was on the gadget.
“I’m in the bath right now so I’ll buzz you in,” the woman chimed.
The faint sound of a lock tumbling caught Helen’s attention. She tried the left door and it capitulated to her effort.
A waft of mild apple cinnamon scents filled her nose as she stepped into the stately foyer. The home felt more like a catalog showpiece than a family refuge. Once the children grew up and left the nest, Lori was more than happy to have everything artificially picture-perfect to impress friends and clients. She prided herself in her interior design business and it naturally extended to her own home.
For the most part, Helen appreciated the cleanliness, but she did know of a couple of rooms that Lori would never let anyone outside of the family see. Those were the rooms that Chuck frequented when not sleeping.
Helen peered around the house. At first it seemed to be empty save for the chic twinkling Christmas decorations and flickering faux candles. But as she passed the dining room, she spotted Tom Carruthers, Lori’s younger brother. A man in his late forties, his was a familiar face over the many years of family events together. Growing up he was the closest to Lori among their siblings, and she always involved him in her family matters. It was one of the gracious traits Lori owned.
Tom was always a warm presence, though. Helen even considered him as her own uncle. Tom was much more palatable than her blood uncle any given day. Helen approached him as he quietly sipped from a steaming cup of tea at the large mahogany table, a magazine splayed before him.
“Hello, Tom,” she greeted.
The waifish man peered above his bold blue and orange spectacles. On any other person in her family, they might have looked like novelty party glasses. But on Tom, they were smart, the pinnacle of style.
Tom smiled. “Helen! I’m glad you were able to make it this year!”
“You’re not with Jamal?” she asked. For the past couple of years, Tom had been more aloof, electing to spend time with his boyfriend rather than his extended family. Helen was understanding. She was sure she would definitely prefer the company of a boyfriend than Chuck and Lori. Only she was missing the key factor of a boyfriend.
“Ah, he went to Florida to visit his great-aunt … she’s not doing very well …”
“I’m so sorry to hear that!”
“She’s lived a long life.” Tom dipped his head. “Jamal told me to have a merrier Christmas here, with family, for his sake.”
Helen nodded morosely.
“I argued to go with him, but he put his foot down. And I can’t say ‘no’ to that beautiful freckled face.” Tom sniffed with a sad grin.
“Well, let’s have a good Christmas for him!” Helen stepped over to Tom and hugged his shoulders.
“Aw, bless you, dear.” He patted her arm gently, as though petting a rabbit.
Just then Joaquin stepped into the archway of the dining room, carrying their luggage with the resolve of a pack mule. However, he looked a little lost in the cavernous house.
“But WHO is this?” gasped Tom, lifting away from his seat.
Helen flinched. Somehow it did not sink into her that she would have to introduce her fake boyfriend to people at some point.
“Hi, I’m Joaquin,” he said, softly setting the bags onto the polished hardwood floor.
“HELEN! You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone!”
“Well, I didn’t know you’d be here!” Helen growled playfully.
“Lori knows, right?” Tom gasped. “And she didn’t tell me!” His eyes darted to Joaquin still standing awkwardly under the arch. His bony hand glided across the surface of the table. “Hello! I’m Tom Carruthers, Lori’s brother.”
“He’s basically another uncle to me,” Helen added.
“Pleasure to meet ya!” said Joaquin, stepping eagerly to shake Tom’s hand.
“Same here!” Tom took Joaquin’s outstretched palm. The false beau’s large hand enveloped his. Tom turned to his niece by name, the daylight glinting off his glossy forehead and prematurely gray hair. “Helen! You’ve got to tell me where you met this handsome rogue.”
Helen rolled her eyes with a smirk. “I’m only going to tell it once and I’m going to wait until everyone’s here.” She perked up and consciously patted Joaquin’s arm. “Speaking of, where is everyone?”
“Lori’s taking a bath. Chuck went to pick up the honey ham with Grayson and Grandpa Roy. And as far as I know, Melissa and Jacob are still on their way.”
Helen nodded. “Yeah, traffic’s bad today. We had an early start. My parents should be close, though.”
“Well, you two get comfy! There’s fresh tea and a tin of cookies Grayson bought in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Tom!” said Helen. She then herded Joaquin back into the hall.
“Hey, is there a bathtub on the main floor?”
“Um, why?”
“Well, we don’t know where we’re sleeping yet, right?”
“I’m sure we can ask Lori once she comes down.”
“I just want to stow our bags in a place bed bugs won’t reach.”
“Wh-what? This place doesn’t have bed bugs.”
“Can’t be too careful. ‘Specially with folks that like to travel,” said Joaquin, pointing to a photo collage on the wall of the Halidays at various international locales.
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