by Gray, Meg
“Let’s see it, darling,” she said, snatching it from his hands. “Oh, yes, very nice,” she said and Emma smiled at Brayden as he returned to his seat. “I see we still need to work on your spelling, though.”
Brayden’s brow furrowed.
“Actually,” Emma said, feeling an incredible need to defend and protect this little boy from his grandmother’s ridicule. “Brayden’s spelling is very appropriate for his age and he has worked incredibly hard this summer.”
Mrs. Lewis squared her eyes on Emma. “I see. You mean, appropriate for public education. You teach at one of those public schools, don’t you? My boys were writing full-page stories by the time they were Brayden’s age with correct spelling and punctuation. He can do better.” The woman looked away.
Emma was about to snap at the woman when she felt Marcus’s hand on her knee. His touch startled and mellowed her at the same time.
“I didn’t know you made something for your grandparents, Brayden. That was very nice of you. Mother, may I see it please.” His voice was so warm and gentle. His mother passed him the paper and Emma watched him study it.
“Wow, Bray,” he said. “I can tell you worked very hard on this. It looks wonderful. Would you like to show this to Uncle Luke?”
Brayden nodded and passed the paper to his uncle. “Geez, boy you can draw,” Luke praised him. “Nice job on the trees and the water. How come you’ve never drawn me anything before? I want one too.”
Brayden beamed at his uncle. Emma’s heart swelled that Marcus and Luke had taken the time to build up Brayden’s self-esteem. They got it—the boy needed affirmation, not criticism.
“Well, boys let’s get a move on. We have a tennis match at the club in less than one hour with your Uncle Bill,” Mr. Lewis said, placing his hands on the wooden arms of his chair.
“Tennis, today Dad? But you just got back. Don’t you want to use the day to relax?” Luke asked hopefully.
“Not at all. I know your Uncle Bill thinks he has the advantage with my jet lag, but I’ll show him,” the man said, shaking his wrinkled finger in the air.
“Mother, would you be able to watch after Brayden while we’re gone?” Marcus asked.
“Absolutely not,” the woman said put off. “I have a party to get ready for and this house is in a disgraceful state. I’ll be lucky if I can pull this whole thing off.”
“Well then, Dad, I’ll have to sit this one out,” Marcus told his father.
“You most certainly will not,” his mother piped up from her end of the table again. “You can’t play tennis with three people.”
“I can stay home too,” Luke chimed in.
“Don’t be ridiculous you two. Besides, I need my children there in case your father decides to have another heart attack on the court. Miss Hewey, was it?” she asked barely glancing at Emma. “She’ll stay with the boy. That’s what she’s here for, isn’t it?” The question was directed at Marcus.
Before Marcus could reply Emma jumped in, “I’d love to hang out with Brayden this morning. Is that okay with you?” Brayden looked across the table, relief sweeping over him and nodded.
“Are you sure? It’s your day…” Marcus was saying to her quietly.
“Of course,” she said back just above a whisper. “I’m happy to do it.”
“Well, now that that’s settled. I have work to do,” Mrs. Lewis said, jangling her bracelets as she got up from the table. Everyone else dispersed quickly. The senior Mr. Lewis had his hands on the backs of his sons practically pushing them out the door. Emma and Brayden retreated to the game room upstairs and went a few rounds at Ping-Pong.
The ear piercing screeches of “MARICELLA,” from Mrs. Lewis downstairs sent quivers down Emma’s spine. Brayden’s eyes constantly flashed in the direction of the door waiting for his grandmother’s approach. The volatility of the house was uncomfortable, so Emma suggested they head outside.
Down the stairs they stepped, with extreme caution, pausing at the bottom and looking for signs of the fire-breathing dragon. When there was no sound, they scurried across the hardwood floor like mice. A pale-faced and frazzled looking Maricella polished the silver in the dining room.
Emma gave the woman a sympathetic smile and then shooed Brayden out the door when another, “MARICELLA,” came roaring from somewhere inside.
They took refuge in the combined tennis and basketball court. Brayden rode his bicycle around until he became bored and then he and Emma played a little basketball. Brayden lost interest in the game and Emma sat on the sideline watching him as he investigated the rocks that encircled the court. A new crack just beyond center court had appeared after the earthquake, leaving behind a reminder of its wrath.
“There you two are,” Marcus called, walking across the lawn with Luke trailing behind him. Brayden stood up and waved before returning to his rock hunt and Luke went to join him. Marcus sat next to Emma.
“How long have you guys been out here?” he asked.
“Most of the morning,” she replied. “It felt a little safer.”
“Probably a good idea. How’s Brayden holding up?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “As you probably noticed he and my parents aren’t very close. And I apologize for my mother this morning.”
“Apologize for what?”
“She can be a little set in her ways and I apologize she didn’t receive you more warmly.” He tilted his head toward her, “To my mother you’re the hired help.”
“Oh, well that makes sense, because I am. Right?” Emma said, lifting her chin and steadying her gaze across the court on Brayden and Luke.
“That’s not how I think of you,” Marcus said. Emma could feel his eyes watching her. His voice was soft and almost questioning.
“You mean you aren’t going to pay me after all,” she mocked and looked at him glad to see the grin that spread across his face matched her own. Marcus grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. The softness of his lips meeting her skin delighted her more than she’d been prepared for.
“Hey Dad,” Brayden yelled, interrupting them and Marcus dropped her hand. “You wanna play some basketball? You and me, against Uncle Luke and Ms. Hewitt.”
“What d’ya say?” Marcus asked standing up and offered her his hand. “You up for a little two-on-two.” She reached up, accepted his hand, and let him hold it all the way out to center court, where they turned to face each other on opposite teams.
* * *
Lunch was served on the patio at a large round table. Brayden sat between Marcus and Emma, happily eating his turkey sandwich. The conversation orbited around the tennis match earlier in the day. Marcus’s game winning overhead slam to seal the fate of the game was relayed by his father and brother who then broke down in laughter as they recounted how Uncle Bill fell face first on the court trying to return the shot.
“Brayden, eat your vegetables.” Marcus felt his son tense at his grandmother’s demand.
Brayden turned his nose up and looked to his father.
“You know, Brayden,” Emma said, leaning in close. “If you want to become as strong as your dad and hit game winning shots in tennis or make baskets from half court like him, you have to eat your broccoli. It’ll help your muscles grow big like your dad’s.”
Brayden looked skeptical and then stared down at Marcus’s plate, broccoli still untouched.
“Dad hasn’t eaten his broccoli,” he replied to Emma. She looked across at him with her glistening eyes and tilted her head to the side. She was setting him up, she knew he didn’t like broccoli, but he could also hear her voice telling him that Brayden will do what he does, before he does what he tells him to do. Dropping his sandwich on his plate, he picked up his fork and pierced a piece of broccoli. Even covered in mayonnaise dressing and dotted with bits of bacon the vegetable still didn’t appeal to him. Popping it in his mouth, he smiled and chewed.
“
Mmmm,” he said, “I can feel myself getting stronger already. Try some Bray.” And Brayden did, eating up the small mound of broccoli on his plate.
Maricella cleared the table and left a plate of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. Marcus reached for it and held it out to Emma. “Cookie?” he offered, ignoring the jilted look on his mother’s face. “Or are you too full from all of Maricella’s fantastic cooking?”
“Who could resist one of these?” She played along, choosing one from the plate and smiling as they shared a private moment together. The sound of his mother clearing her throat broke in and Marcus passed the plate to Brayden before Luke took it and passed it to his parents.
“Marcus, dear,” his mother’s voice pleaded for his attention.
“Yes Mother?”
“I have a list of errands for you and Luke to run this afternoon. I’m afraid the jet-lag is catching up with me and I must rest before this evening.”
“Of course, Mother,” he consented. “Let’s go get your hair combed Brayden and you can come help your Uncle Luke and me.”
“Doesn’t the child need to rest before tonight,” his mother chimed in. “Perhaps he should stay here with the nanny.” Her eyes glanced to Emma.
“He can rest when we get back. I’d like to have him keep us company and Ms. Hewitt is Brayden’s teacher, not the nanny.”
Marcus stood. His mother’s eyes flitted to Emma and then back to him.
“Oh,” she continued. “I forgot to mention your aunt Catrina is bringing her niece, Daniella, from L.A. this evening. She’s a graduate from Stanford law, doing a clerkship with a circuit court judge. She’s a lovely girl. I’m sure you two will have lots in common to talk about.” There was an eagerness in his mother’s voice and he knew exactly what she meant by a lovely girl. A girl she had hand selected as a potential bride for him.
“That’s wonderful, Mother,” Marcus said, faking his enthusiasm. “We should be sure to let Maricella know to set an extra place then.”
* * *
For once Emma was thankful for her room’s distance from the rest of the house. It was quiet here. A quick check of her phone showed she’d missed a call from her sister and there was a message. She connected to her voicemail and punched in her password.
“Hellooo, Emma. It’s your sis’r! I haven’t heard from you all week. I just wan’d t’say hi and tell you I found the most amazing, Burberry cashmere scarf today shopping with Lacy and I got it for you. Oh, Em, it’s t’die for, but I guess you’ll hafta wait ‘til you’re back in town to ged’it. Love you, love you. Bye.”
Audrey’s voice was as bubbly as a fresh bottle of champagne. The cheerful thickness of her words was a complete contradiction to their last conversation. Emma found it odd to hear her sister so stripped of affection one day and then drenched in delight the next. There was something about the call that didn’t set well with Emma, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Well, whatever it was, Emma was glad to be back on her sister’s good side.
Emma missed another call when she was in the shower. This time it was from Finn. His voice was tight and thick with his Irish accent.
“Emma, it’s me Finn. I need to talk to you. It’s about Audrey. You won’t be able to reach me on my cell. I, um, I’ll try to call again soon. Okay, Bye.”
A siren sounded in the background before his call ended. She couldn’t imagine why Finn wanted to talk to her about Audrey. And his voice sounded lifeless, not full of merriment like it usually did. The combination of the two odd phone calls left her ill at ease. Just one or the other wouldn’t set off any alarms, but two calls in one day from her sister and brother-in-law worried her.
She was late for the seven o’clock serving of hors d’oeuvres, so she switched her phone to vibrate and slid it into her clutch. If either of them called again, she would step away and take it.
Passing through the dining room Emma noticed two women she’d never seen before, covered in starched aprons efficiently setting the extended table. Outside on the patio dozens of Chinese lanterns were set ablaze around the perimeter. She searched the strange faces outside, but the only one she recognized was Mrs. Lewis who immediately shot her a look of surprise. Turning away from the woman, Emma looked at the beautiful spread of appetizers on the table at the edge of the patio. Maricella breezed by her with another tray of beautifully stuffed mushrooms.
“Everything looks beautiful, Maricella,” Emma whispered, stepping in behind the housekeeper, who only briefly made eye contact with her before returning to the kitchen and remaining invisible to the rest of the guests.
“There you are.” She heard Marcus say from behind her. When she turned, she saw he carried two glasses of champagne and smiled in the gentle easy way she was becoming so used to.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m a little late. I just couldn’t get my hair to cooperate.” She’d been trying to create something classic and stylish, but she’d given up and settled on a low side ponytail instead.
“You look stunning,” Marcus whispered, leaning in close to her ear and she felt goose bumps creep up her arms. Her moment was ruined when she caught sight of Mrs. Lewis watching them. She was talking with another woman, whose frozen expression suggested a recent shot of Botox.
“Who’s that?” She read from the lips of the Botox woman.
“Oh, just some summer fling, I’m sure,” Mrs. Lewis scoffed, failing to lower her voice before turning her back on them.
Marcus handed her a glass of champagne and she quickly took a sip from it, thankful to have something to take the edge off what could be a very trying night.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look in that dress?” he asked, admiring her.
“No, you haven’t,” she said unable to resist smiling at the complement. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks. She’d wished she’d had something different than the same dress she wore the night they went dancing. But her closet wasn’t teaming with cocktail dresses and this was the most appropriate thing she had for tonight. Silently she sent another thank you to Stacy. Emma took a swallow of champagne and then smiled nervously at Marcus.
“You okay?” he asked her.
She nodded, “Just a little nervous, who are all these people?”
“Well,” Marcus said, turning to stand beside her. “There’s Luke and his entirely inappropriate friend, Kimmy. I’m not exactly sure where he met her or what she does and I don’t think I want to know.” The woman, a platinum blonde, was dressed in a bright red strapless dress that scarcely covered her body from bust line to mid-thigh. Her cleavage looked ready to escape and Emma worried that with one false move the entire dress just might burst open.
“The man over there ogling Luke’s date is Uncle Bill,” Marcus continued.
“And I can see his run in with the tennis court this morning left its mark,” Emma added. Uncle Bill had a quarter-sized abrasion in the middle of his forehead and his nose was shiny red where the skin rubbed off.
“Yes, the mark of a loser,” Marcus said, smiling at her. “The woman over there with mother is Uncle Bill’s fourth wife, Catrina. And that’s her niece Daniella. My cousin Rich is over there with father and his second wife, Kennedy. They’re expecting their first child together in December.” The woman’s hair reminded her of Audrey’s, a beautiful chestnut brown. Her delicate frame was just beginning to show the first signs of pregnancy under her ice blue empire waist dress.
“And the old man over there. That would be my grandfather.” Marcus’s grandfather was a relic of a once regal man. Emma could see the same look in his eye that Marcus had and even though his shoulders were hunched and he relied on a wooden cane for support, he still looked powerful.
“It’s quite a family you have,” Emma told him.
“They’re an entertaining lot, that’s for sure. What do you say we go mingle now?” He offered her his arm.
She smiled and took his arm, confident she could conquer this crowd with him by her side.
They finally sett
led into a conversation with Luke and Kimmy, who chimed in with words like, “for sure,” and “whatever”.
Dinner was served in the dimly lit dining room. Emma sat on the corner between Marcus and Mrs. Lewis. Emma listened to the conversation and noticed she and Kimmy were the only ones not contributing.
There was talk of the stock market, the economy, the president and then it turned to the family’s law firm. Bill, who was up from the L.A. office talked about upping his charges for some of his clients, so they could continue paying out their five-figure bonuses next year. Emma choked on her sip of water trying to imagine a bonus being dropped into her bank account merely for doing her job. Bill must have noticed her sputtering, because he turned his attention to her.
“I’m sorry, did you say something, Emma?” he asked.
“No,” she replied meekly. “I was just a little surprised, that’s a lot of money to give someone for just doing their job.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a bonus check?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Emma shook her head.
“Emma is a teacher,” Marcus said and Bill nodded.
“Ahhh, that’s right,” Bill said. “Public school, right?”
“Yes,” Emma said, feeling everyone’s eyes on her.
“Kindergarten?”
Emma nodded, thinking to herself, Great. Here it comes snack and naps. That’s all they think I do.
“Well, now that would be the reason dear.” Bill leaned into the table, softening his voice as if he was speaking to a child. “In our line of work we deal with very important people, helping them invest their money, align their estates, follow laws. It can get very technical and very stressful. We need to reward our hard working attorneys so they stay motivated. It’s not like kindergarten where you serve milk from cartons and put everyone down for an afternoon nap.”
Bill smirked and let out a little chuckle at his performance, his face turning red.
Marcus shifted in his seat. She could sense that he was about to say something in her defense. She had to think fast and say something, anything. If she didn’t it would make her look as pitiful as she felt right now.