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However, learning they have been targeted by the same person is disconcerting and I wonder if this is more serious than I thought.
We exit the car, and the two children stare up at the snowy house in disbelief and I wonder what will run through my parent’s minds when they open the huge front door. I can’t picture them being happy about having two small humans dirtying their polished wooden floor and messing up their scatter cushions and, if anything, I hope that Brad and Angelina don’t let me down.
We ring the front doorbell and I hear a loud, “Who is it?”
Rolling my eyes, I say irritably, “Who do you think it is?”
“Is that you, Robert?”
Mum sounds fearful, and I say with exasperation, “Of course it’s me.”
The door opens an inch and then a little wider and my mother stares at the sight on her doorstep with wide eyes.
“Who do we have we here?”
“Hi Mum, meet Brad and Angelina, Jessica’s niece and nephew.”
Mum stares at them and I’m amazed when her expression softens and her eyes light up. “Oh, how adorable. Please come in children, it’s so cold out there.”
If anything, the kids appear alarmed and I’m guessing I would be too because my mother is dressed in a huge brightly coloured kaftan in full makeup and dripping in jewellery and Angelina gasps, “Are you a queen?”
My mother merely laughs and extends her hand to Angelina’s and winks. “If I am, you must be a princess. Come on in. I have some cookies waiting for you both.”
I stare at Jessica in shock, and as we follow my mother inside her palatial home, I watch her head off to the kitchen with two extremely willing companions by her side.
Jessica makes to follow them, but I grasp her hand and pull her back and as she falls against me, I hold her tightly and whisper, “Something’s not right about this.”
“Why not?” The fact her lips are now close to mine makes me stop for a moment as I enjoy this unexpected outcome. She smells so good, so delicious and it’s tempting to push everything aside and bury my face into her soft, sweet-smelling hair and lose myself in pure pleasure and forget what’s happening right now.
“Robert.” Her voice is like a breeze whispering in my ear and I hold her tighter and almost give into my urge to pull her close and kiss her sweet soft lips. Then we hear a loud, “Put her down, son, now is not the time.”
We spring apart and my heart sinks when I witness the deep frown on my father’s face as he hovers in the doorway of the living room.
“Come in. We need to talk.”
He glances at Jessica and nods towards the kitchen, which makes me angry that he is dismissing her, and I say tightly, “Come on Jessica, the children will be fine with mum.”
“Children!” My father’s face is like thunder and I know he thinks they’re Jessica’s. His disapproval rubs me up the wrong way and I frown, pulling her beside me with a firm grip. I glare at him to challenge me, which he obviously registers because he rolls his eyes and says roughly, “Have it your way.”
The fact Jessica’s hand curls around mine tells me she’s a little intimidated by him and I don’t blame her. I’vealwaysbeen intimidated by him and still am, to a degree. It gets worse, not better, and being here always reminds me of my childhood and the way just a look from him would have me second guessing everything I had done that day, searching for a reason for his disapproval.
As I grew older, the fact I was alive was reason enough and I never understood why he was always so hard on me. Even when I ‘made it’ it didn’t earn me any respect from him. If anything, he scorned the way I’d earned my billions and acted as if I didn’t deserve it.
Jessica is subdued beside me and I’m guessing it’s this house. It always has that effect because there is never anything out of place, which makes me hope Brad and Angelina rectify that.
The huge fire roaring in the grate of a fireplace that’s as intimidating as the man who stands before it provides the only warmth in this house of horrors. I note the ever-present whiskey glass on the small table by his favourite chair, and as we sit on the formal sofa, he nods towards the decanter. “Can I get you a whiskey?”
“No thank you, I’m driving.”
He turns to Jessica, who also declines with a polite, “No thank you, I don’t drink spirits.”
My father shakes his head as if we’ve lost our minds and I’m guessing to him we have. He’s always enjoyed a ‘tipple’ as he calls it and considers it’s the mark of a true man. Maybe that’s why he’s so disappointed in me because I always preferred wine instead, something he refers to a ladies’ drink, while looking scornfully in my direction.
He sits and sighs heavily, which is the only indication something is troubling him, other than everything about me it seems, and he leans forward with a hard glint in his eye. “I won’t beat around the bush. We’ve been receiving some rather disturbing Christmas cards.”
Jessica stiffens and I can tell he has her full attention. My father reaches behind him and pulls out a bundle of cards that look familiar and hands them to me with a sigh. “They don’t make for enjoyable reading and at first, I put it down to a prank. A vicious greeting from a disgruntled employee perhaps, or somebody with a grudge against me.”
I sift through them and hand them to Jessica who studies them with care, and I glance up into my father’s eyes and note the keen interest in them as he waits for our reaction.
