B y the time my brand new car pulls into the drive of Frost Manor it’s very nearly midnight and the children have been asleep for hours. I’m surprised at how easy it was to talk to Sara on the way here. I usually keep my past close to my chest but I’ve told her things that I’ve not even told Rachel in all the years I’ve known her.
I thought that I would spend this weekend being tongue-tied and awkward around my crush, but she’s easy to talk to and sympathetic and I feel that she really listened to what I was saying instead of turning off the moment that it became obvious that my past was tragic. A lot of people do that because they’re scared about feeling something for another person or worried they won’t know what to say.
Sara’s not like that.
I park near the main doors and grimace when I see how many vintage cars, Porsches and Ferraris are parked out front. Most of the family must have driven up this afternoon. It looks like Aunt Adelaide is still being driven everywhere in her 1930’s Cadillac and cousin Marcella has a new Corvette.
Why did I bring Sara and the kids to this pack of vultures? They’re good, decent people and they don’t deserve to be paraded up and down in front of my disapproving family’s eyes. I squeeze Sara’s hand hard before taking a deep breath and stepping out of the car.
Sara wakes the kids gently and I make sure I’m leading the way as we approach the house. It’s bigger than I remember or maybe I’ve gotten used to smaller places in the meantime. Aunt Adelaide’s chauffeur opens the door and welcomes us in with a minimum of fuss.
He’s an old guy with a huge fuzzy mustache and he has the best poker face I’ve ever seen. I feel a little fond thrill at seeing him again and we smile at each other before a shrill voice erupts from the drawing room.
“Is that cousin Lucille at last? How dreadfully late you are, darling!”
Marcella hurries out dressed in some sort of evening gown and has she got her best emeralds on? She does. She’s wearing grandmother’s emeralds to the family Easter meet up as though it’s some sort of red carpet event.
I raise an eyebrow at her and step closer to Sara and the kids who huddle a little behind me. “We had a long drive, cousin.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce us? What a lovely quaint little thing she is! And what absolutely delightful little creatures these two are, how lovely.” She makes a face that seems to be intended to be a smile. “Of co
urse you must join us for a drink, Uncle Denholm is just getting going on the port and you know what wonderful stories he tells.”
“This is Sara and her children, Lucas and Liam.” I am not letting my awful cousin force Sara to stay up and listen to my uncle’s racist stories about the war. “We’re very tired so we’ll be going straight to bed.”
“You can’t possibly!” Marcella raises her voice. “Everyone come see Lucille and tell her that she must come have a drink with us.”
The rest of my family streams out, gripping champagne flutes or port glasses and dressed in clothes that would be more appropriate for Michelin star dining than a family get together. There’s a chorus of voices telling us how much they missed me and want to catch up and I can see that Sara is beginning to buckle under the pressure.
“Thank you all but no,” I say in my firmest voice and I see several cousins take a huge step back. “We are going to get some sleep. We’ll see you all in the morning.”
Before anyone can argue I take the bags and my temporary family and sweep up the stairs. Perhaps years of watching my mother work her haughty magic rubbed off on me after all.
Ten minutes later Sara is getting the boys ready for bed while I survey our room with a sinking feeling of concern. There’s only one bed. I can’t possibly spend a night in a bed with Sara, not when I have feelings for her. It wouldn’t be right.
Just as I’m trying to figure out if we could manage two rooms without the family finding that weird, there’s a knock on the door. I open it to find Aunt Adelaide in one of her signature jumpsuits smiling at me from over her massive tortoiseshell glasses.
“Hello, love,” she says.
“Hi Auntie,” I give her a gentle hug. Of all the people in my family my aunt was always the one who was kindest and the one I’ve remembered most fondly through the years. “Did you have a good trip?”
“I had a splendid time. We ate fifteen donuts! I just wanted to check you got in safely, dearie.”
“I’m just fine, thanks Aunt. We’ll catch up in the morning, okay?”
“Of course, dear. You can introduce me to your nice young lady and her children and I’ll tell them all what kind of flowers would suit them best.” She gives me a big happy smile and totters off down the hall as I wonder not for the first time if she puts on part of the doddery old lady routine to mess with us all.
By the time I get back, Sara has changed and is also staring at the bed with a concerned expression.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll take the sofa.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want you to feel comfortable. Also it’s a really soft sofa, you should envy me.”
This makes her laugh and we get settled and say our goodnights. As she drifts off to sleep I lie awake staring at the ceiling and wondering if it should be this soothing and comforting to hear another person’s soft breathing in the room with you.
Chapter # 11