twenty-eight
Rory
TheKellet’sestatewasnot at all what I had expected. I have always imagined something Gothic, rayless, and with a lot of harsh pointed lines.
This place represented none of that.
The Georgian-style mansion is equally—to a fault—symmetrical. Large, detailed pendants, and ogee caps framing the entrance. Two large fireplaces visible on either side of the house.
It seemed warm and inviting from the outside. Like anormalfamily would reside within its extravagant all-white brick and stucco exterior.
“Have I ever told you, you’re my least favorite sibling?” Finn ponders as we’re led into the formal dining room.
“I’m your only sibling.”
“Exactly.”
A maid pulls out my chair, seating me next to Finn. Lorna sitting directly across from him. Abram taking one at the head of the oversized mahogany table.
Neither of us bothered to be greeted by Silas when he sat down on the other.
“Here we go,” Finn mutters under his breath.
Silently he nods his head in the server’s direction. Raising his glass as she fills it before scurrying off.
“Bottoms up.” Downing the entire glassful in a single gulp. Wiping the excess with the back of his hand.
“Plan on getting drunk before the entrée is even served?” I ask, eyeing him skeptically.
“I’m getting a head start. Believe me, when I tell you, you’ll be drinking before the dessert arrives.” He visibly winces. “If we make it that far.”
Raising his glass, he signals for another. I decline when offered my own, but Finn takes my crystal glass anyway and has her fill them both up.
“Plus, they don’t pay attention to us. It’s more of a formality. They won’t care about our opinions on anything work related until at least college. So, until then, Salud!” Clanking both his and mine together in each of his hands. Downing the first.
Glancing around, I notice what he was talking about. Not a single person so much even bats an eyelash looking in our direction. Abram and Silas discussing work like Abram hadn’t arrived home an hour before we left.
Lorna sat quietly. Her hair pulled back into a tight chiffon bun. Wearing a dark plum dress that wasn’t too tight. The hem length seeming a tad shorter than what she’d normally sport.
Dressing like she was ready to destroy Wall Street one heel click at a time.
“What did you mean earlier?” Speaking only so Finn can hear. Not that anyone was listening to us.
Our first course arrived. A leafy green salad. Topped with a raspberry vinaigrette, feta cheese, and toasted pecans. It looked delicious.
“About no one giving two shits about us?” He shrugs. “As a Casper or Kellet, it isn’t expected to be the best. It’smandatory. So even though we won’t have a say in things for several years we’re required to uphold that appearance. Even if it is a mirage.”
I chew on a piece of lettuce, thinking over what Finn said. What an impossible standard to grow up in. They are raised for the world to respect them, but they don’t get that in their own homes.
“Wow, that’s—”
“—Fucked up,” he finishes.
Nodding, I reach for my wineglass that still sits untouched.
“Now you’re getting it.” His laugh airy when I take a large drink.
Lifting his own, we clink them together, taking another. It tastes just as bitter the second time.