After the weekend together,things went back to normal, as we agreed. We continued texting throughout the day and then spent our evenings sending each other memes and reels. Though with every interaction, there’s a question lingering in the back of my mind.
I had hoped to talk to her on the two-hour drive up to her parent’s house in Arbor Ridge, but Penny spent the entire trip talking to her best friend Shae, whose connecting flight was cancelled for the night because of the winter weather.
Now we’re standing outside her childhood home, which looks like something you’d find on a Christmas card.
The house is a two-story white and gray colonial decorated with icy blue string lights and bright green wreath hanging on the large dark wood door.
This is how I always imagined Christmas — the way it looked on TV and in movies with freshly fallen snow on the ground, not like it is in downtown Madison where the buildings are so tightlypacked together, we’re lucky if it sticks outside of Harrington Park.
“Are you ready?” I nod toward the house.
She lets out a breath, “As I’ll ever be.”
I wheel our luggage closer then knock on the front door. Penny quickly grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together and giving it a tight squeeze. I give her one back. The act grounds me more than I thought it would.
“I’ll be right there,” a familiar voice calls out. After a few minutes, Penny’s mother opens the door, smiling. “Oh, it’s Penny and Asher,” she announces over her shoulder before ushering us inside. “Come in, you two. Come in. She’s practically a mirror image of her daughter, short with the same green eyes and strawberry blonde hair, though hers streaked with gray.
The moment I step inside, a cacophony of scents hits my senses: the fresh pine of the large 7-foot Christmas tree in the corner, the crackling fireplace and whatever delicious meal is being prepared in the kitchen.
“Hi, Mom,” Penny says, giving her mother a hug.
“And Asher, it’s so nice to meet you in person.” Her mom pulls away, offering me her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Woodhouse.”
“Oh, call me Heather.” She waves me off and then looks between us. “How was the drive up? We’re still waiting for Penny’s younger sister, Marigold, and her husband. They said the traffic outside of Madison was terrible.”
Penny gives me a look, and I smile.
We finish the awkward exchange, then Heather calls Violet’s boys, Micah and Riley, instructing them to take our bags up to Penny’s old room. She then leads us back to the dining room so I can meet the rest of the family.
“Oh, Hazel.” Penny slides her arm around my middle, “This is Asher. Asher, my twin Hazel, and their partner, Alice.”
Hazel practically jumps up to meet me, extending their hand for a firm handshake. Their partner, Alice, gives me a little wave from where she sits at the table then watches Hazel with what I can only describe as admiration.
“It is nice to meet you both.” I say offering them my hand.
Hazel gives it a firm shake, “I have heard so much about you.”
“Good things, I hope.” I say, placing my palm at the small of Penny’s back.
“Great things.” Penny responds, her voice shakes. She gives me a reassuring smile before shooting her twin a look I can’t quite decipher.
“I hear you own a tabletop store downtown?” Hazel says.
“Yeah, Dragon’s Lair. We sell competitive trading card games, tabletop RPG manuals and the mini figures for turn-based combat games.” It’s been a long while since I’ve had to explain what I do for a living, most people gloss over the entire fact and mention how hard it is to own a business in this economy.
“Penny mentioned she had a lot of fun playing that one game,” Hazel snaps as they’re trying to recall the name, “Dungeon—something. I think it’d be really fun for us to have some sort of family game night at one of these things.”
Their gentle interrogation is cut dramatically short when Marigold and her husband arrive. The subject shifts to her story of the drive up and how everyone is excited it’s going to snow the entire holiday.
Penny’s quieter than the rest of her siblings, a stark contrast to when she was playing games with my friends. She seems on edge, her posture reminding me of the day the rogue terrier chased her into Harrington Park.
“Hey,” I mutter under my breath, touching her thigh. “Could you help me get the other bags from the car?”
“Oh,” she shakes her head, “of course.”
We walk outside, the hours-old snow crunching under my boots as I make my way down the path. The thick cloud cover renders the sunless sky a dull shade of gray, the only pop of color coming from the sparse cropping of trees at the edge of the property.
