House of Thirteen

by Andy Lockwood

  “Can I drive home?” Joe smiled, as if they games might resume any moment.

  “Do you have a license?”

  “No.”

  “Then no.”

  “But you don’t have one either.”

  “But I am the responsible one.”

  Joe paused, her argument meeting a swift defeat against sound logic. She nodded, motioning for Colette to proceed. Colette took one look at Ren, who mimicked Joe’s gesture, and moved up the sidewalk.

  Ren and Joe followed quietly, not wanting to distract Colette. It was obvious that this meeting was important to her. They were surprised to see as they approached the front door, an elderly man of surprising haste came out and down the walk to meet them.

  “Ah, Colette, my dear. Radiant as ever,” He smiled as he took her hand, kissing her on the cheek. He looked genuinely happy to see her, but it was obvious to them that he was anxious about something.

  “Oh, Henry, you’re too much. How are you?”

  “Life is good to these old bones. Work keeps the spring in my step.”

  She smiled. “I brought along a couple of girls from the museum to help out today. This is Florence. And Josephine.” He took each of their hands delicately, smiling warmly and looking each pleasantly in the eye. He was almost hypnotic with his approach that Ren forgot to cringe at her birth name.

  “A pleasure to meet you both.”

  Colette took his attention right back, taking him by the hand and resuming the walk up to the door.

  “I could barely wait for my appointment time this morning. I’m eager to see what surprises you have inside –“

  Henry stopped and for a moment looked very old and frail. He smiled again, but this was not the warmth he just gave to each of them. It was a smile that meant he was trying to soften bad news.

  “I am sorry that I didn’t call sooner. I am afraid I need to ask you to reschedule your appointment.”

  Colette looked shocked, almost betrayed by the words. “I don’t understand.”

  “Another of my client’s has put me in a bind and is currently occupying the house. She has insisted that she have first look at the lot and is not going to budge until she has been over every item.” It was becoming apparent that this was not only a shameful admission, but it was an annoyance to him as well. “If we could simply reschedule, I will hold all other clients until after you have had your turn.”

  For a moment, Colette appeared wounded. Someone that she obviously considered to be a friend had slighted her – worse, it was completely by surprise. But having spent plenty of time with Mariel, it only took a moment for that look to fade, replaced by a calm exterior. The only indicator of her displeasure now was the visible tension in her jaw muscles.

  “It’s fine. We’ll do it however you need to, Henry,” he visibly relaxed. “Though I do need to know who is stirring up trouble in our friendly community.”

  His jaw dropped and he stammered. He looked back at the door, and then to Colette.

  “Henry, be reasonable. Whoever it is, we can easily run them out of town. You, Mariel, the other preservationists, myself…”

  “It’s just not that simple, Colette.”

  Her jaw tensed. “Henry, who is in there?”

  As if on cue, Ren saw a flutter of curtains from the front window, instinctively, she prodded Joe for her attention. They both squinted, hoping to see something that would solve the mystery. The curtain fluttered back too far, revealing the spy, though it was impossible to tell if the reveal was on purpose or accidental. But both girls clearly saw those bitter eyes peering out at them. Ren couldn’t see clear enough, but it almost seemed like she was smiling.

  “No way.”

  Colette turned to both of them. “What?”

  They pointed at the window, but the curtain had already fallen back into place. “It’s her.”

  Colette looked at the house, then to Henry, and then turned back to them.

  “Her who?”

  Ren spit out the name like a bitter taste.

  “Abernathy.”

  **

  Mariel had just finished the morning’s business and moved herself to the common room. A fresh cup of breakfast tea steeped on the table in front of her as she sat back in her chair, ready to peruse the morning paper. She heard the satisfying creak of the joints in her chair and smiled. ‘Her chair’ was not a loving moniker she had adorned it with – it was actually hers. It had been a present from William in another time - another world, really.

  It was a high-back rocker in dark wood – rosewood, if she remembered correctly – with thick, sloping blades and large ornate arms. It was almost therapeutic to listen to it roll back and forth on the floor beneath her, the heft of the chair making a deceptively heavy sound, completely unlike other rocking chairs. She would often come to sit and rock, listening to it and imagining her troubles crushed underfoot.

  The upholstery was nothing close to authentic any longer. Mariel had long given up on historical propriety in this one instance, and though she had been chastised a number of times for jeopardizing the value of the piece, every time she sank into the plush cushions she had chosen over the stuffy, unforgiving historically accurate ones, she knew she made the right choice. Kind as she was in her daily life, Mariel was a cruel mistress when it came to her quiet moments and had gone through a number of restorations done to the chair. She thought of this one as Her Chair, Mk. IV.

  She traced a finger over the wood, marveling at how it still seemed to burn with an inner light, like embers just beneath the veneer. She might have to bend a rule and make sure to revisit them when the chair needed adjustments again. Maybe she’d even change the color scheme. The French vanilla still popped against the dark wood, but it showed age all too easily. Maybe next time, she’d consider –

  The door burst open through the kitchen and she knew that her moment’s peace was gone. What she could not have been ready for was two young women looking almost professional and openly bickering as they raced across the room toward her.

  “I’m going to tell her!”

  “No, I am! I called dibs!”

  “You can’t call dibs on this! You had shotgun last!”

  “You can have dibs and shotgun!”

  “By cheating!”

  “Am not!”

  They shoved each other, picking up speed as they raced closer. Her survival instinct kicked in and begged her to move away from the chair; to hurry and lock herself safely away behind closed doors. Instead, she took a long slow blink and a deep breath as the chaos stormed toward her. She raised her arms up, palms out, pleasantly surprised to see that the motion seemed to calm and quiet them some.

  Under the veil of confusion, she had to fight down a tickle of amusement. These two girls were anxious, betraying their age with an enthusiasm she secretly hoped they would never outgrow – but would like to see them control better.

  “There is news, I presume?” They both opened their mouths and she held up a hand. “One at a time, please. Josephine.”

  As if Mariel were not right there, in full view and looking directly at them, Joe threw an elbow and gave Ren a playful jab. Ren’s jab was less playful, and Joe had to catch her breath before she could speak.

  “So we were going with Colette to meet Harry –“

  “Henry.” Ren chimed in.

  “Yes, Henry, over at some estate to look everything over. But before we could go in, he came out to greet us.”

  “More like bounce us.” Ren growled. Joe threw another elbow in an attempt to quell the commentary.

  “I’m getting to that.”

  “What do you mean ‘bounce’?” Mariel asked, rising from her chair. She didn’t like the way this story was going and she wanted to skip to the end quickly. “He moved the appointment?”

  “Someone got to him first.”

  Colette and Mariel shared a glance as Colette entered the room.

  “Eunice Abernathy got there ahead of us and charmed her way into
our appointment time.”

  Ren and Joe deflated, Colette having told the best part of the story and ruining their surprise. Mariel shook her fists, pacing out into the room.

  “How did she get in before us? Why?”

  “I don’t know. She’s got to be looking for something.”

  Mariel growled out loud, a display that neither Ren nor Joe was ready for. “Would it be so much to ask her to just grow old and die quietly?”

  Again they were thrown. This side of Mariel was completely unknown to them. It was equal parts intimidating and troubling. Neither decided to point it out. Mariel wandered a slow angry circle before opening her office and disappearing inside. Colette moved to the table, grabbing the mug of tea and giving her sisters a consolatory smile.

  “She’ll be alright. Mrs. Abernathy has always been kind of a thorn.”

  Ren nodded, she could understand already.

  Colette backed away from them slowly, talking as she moved toward the office door.

  “A deal’s a deal. We’re going out tonight, but you’re going to owe me a day of servitude.”

  They smiled at her, nodding emphatically as they tittered in place. The moment the door closed, they both exploded in excitement, squealing at each other as they raced upstairs to decide on outfits for their evening.

  **

  Ren and Joe skipped hand in hand out onto the dance floor. They left Colette at the bar, not wanting to appear suspicious by hovering. By genetics or just her own maturity, Colette was rarely questioned in cases where an ID might clarify things. It wasn’t that they didn’t have them, they just weren’t authentic and the fewer questions aroused, the less attention they brought to themselves and their cover.

  Colette was already a memory as they followed the throbbing bass into the lights and churning bodies. It was a liberating feeling to be able to cut loose and, for just a little while, pretend to be like everyone else. She twirled with Joe, catching bursts of light from the ceiling reflecting in her sister's eyes. She needed this. She needed to be among people and the sensations of life. As much as Ren loved the books and antiques, they reflected her unique situation. Something she needed to forget every once in a while. She battled with her feelings from time to time, still not fully over leaving her old life behind. She had to accept the fact that she was something different, that she might outlast everything she knew.

  But it wouldn't be alone.

  She smiled genuinely as Joe threw her arms up and spun around. On the dance floor, they didn't need to pretend. They were anonymous, forgettable. They could be themselves and not worry about pretenses and remembering their place. They could blend and just be.

  Josephine's face changed as they danced, a little less joy in her eyes. Before Ren could figure out why, she felt it. Someone had their hands on Ren's hips, pressing up against her from behind. A fire caught inside her. There was an amount of respect she insisted upon from her fellow man. She didn't demand much from people, but she believed in certain unwritten rules. One was that a gentleman should always ask permission.

  She turned as Joe reached out for her. Ren made a move to brush her hand away as she completed the turn. She could already feel Mariel's disapproval settling over her, and she didn't care. This was justified. She glared into the chest of a man more than a head taller than her. He was toned, and the smile on his face told her that he was accustomed to getting what he wanted. She continued to glare; making her way up to his eyes, wishing the cold stare could do more than just show disapproval. He seemed to take the turn as an invitation, sliding his hands further around her waist. Reaching back with her own slender fingers, she found two thick thumbs and grabbed them, bending as she watched his smile turn to a grimace. Her wrists twisted, and he seemed to dance on his toes, trying to bend out of the pain. As her hands rose, his body lowered; her gaze was met a look of fear and apology reflecting in his wide eyes.

  Her head snapped to the side, ready to confront someone else as she felt a hand alight her shoulder. Joe's worried brow softened her steel grip and she let him go.

  Ren let Joe guide her away from the dance floor, toward a mostly empty table where Colette was guarding their seats. She sipped her drink, an eyebrow raised.

  Ren mounted the stool, holding up a finger for everyone to wait while she took a long pause to empty her drink. She gasped for air, putting the glass back down on the table and looked in Colette's direction.

  "Go ahead, say it."

  Colette set her glass down, certain of a number of things she could say, and knowing most of the responses that would come from them.

  "Are you alright?"

  Ren began to inhale, ready for the argument to start. She paused and let the words repeat themselves in her head. It was a loud place but there was no way to mishear that. There was also no way to mistake the look of concern on Colette’s face. Joe leaned over to her, jabbing her in the ribs. Ren had forgotten to exhale. Her eyes met Colette's again and the raised eyebrow was joined with a smirk.

  "Are you alright?" She repeated, a little louder and more exaggerated. Ren could almost feel the sarcasm. She couldn't help but smile in reply. Colette leaned in. "Just be careful, they're not always so easy to handle."

  Ren nodded, certain that was true and hoped she would never have to find out.

  The rest of the night went on as if nothing had happened. They spent most of the evening on the dance floor as if they were limitless. Ren and Joe both taking turns with bouts of giggles, proving that the alcohol had gotten to them more than Colette, but the eldest sister had been pacing herself. Even so, by closing time, they had burned off most of the alcohol on the dance floor.

  The walk home was quiet. They travelled arm in arm in arm, a trio of heels clicking in unison on the empty city streets.

  "You guys might have to carry me up to my room when we get home," Ren leaned her head on Joe as they walked. Joe shrugged her off.

  "You can forget that, I'm going to have enough trouble getting myself upstairs – and out of this dress - much less worrying about you." Colette laughed, the sound echoing off the tall buildings around them.

  "Just leave me on the couch, I'll change in the morning."

  Neither Ren nor Joe had a reply, they both looked left to the sister keeping them from stumbling off the curb. The three shared another laugh, almost enjoying the walk home as much as the night out; so much that they barely registered the car pulling alongside them.

  "Hey!"

  Colette waved the car along, not bothering to look.

  "Oh no," Ren whispered. "Is it-"

  "Shh," Colette gave Ren's hand a squeeze. "It's fine."

  The car came to a halt and the door opened. Colette put her other hand on Ren's to steady her, hoping that Joe would follow suit.

  "Hey! I'm talking to you, goth bitch!" His words were thick, it sounded as if he'd been drinking.

  Colette stopped, hanging her head in disappointment. Ren and Joe looked at her, then at each other. Colette turned first.

  "I'm starting to understand why she had to resort to violence in the first place."

  Even at a distance, they could see that he was bigger than any of them, but he was having trouble standing still. There was a list in his stance. He had definitely drunk more than necessary tonight.

  "I'm not talking to you," He pointed at Colette, then drawing an invisible line, stopped at Ren. "I'm talking to you. You need to apologize."

  The trepidation that had been building up inside her quickly evaporated to anger. Apologize?

  She stepped forward and clenched her fists. "For what, not letting you molest me back there?"

  "Don't know what's wrong with you. Ladies love Nico."

  "What?"

  "I said, 'Ladies love Nico.'" He almost danced as he said it again.

  "Yeah, but I don-" the pieces clicked for Ren just a moment too late. The reaction was a combination of laughter and choking on the rest of her words. "Oh god. You're Nico."

  He made a grunt that s
he took as affirmation as he gestured to unheard applause. None of them were certain if this was an alcohol related response or if it might have just been him.

  "Wow." Ren turned back to her sisters. "I've heard enough for one night. Can we go home?"

  She had barely taken a step when he grabbed her hair, tugging her back and making her cry out.

  "You're not going anywhere till you apologize, bitch," Nico spun her to face him and she lashed out, spitting in his eyes and kicking at him. Her fury was silenced when she saw the knife glint off the streetlights.

  His eyes glittered almost as much as the blade. Nico wanted her to see what he was doing. He held it out in the open for her to see clearly, and then tightened his grip on her hair as he brought it in closer. Instinct took over and Ren quieted, waiting to see what came next.

  "I think you need to put that away," Colette spoke, closer than he would have liked her to be. He swung the knife in her direction.

  "Back up, unless you want some too."

  Ren wanted to put the attention back on her, to get Colette out of harm's way. But before she could, Colette smiled. She smiled and stepped closer. Nico's knife hand wavered, and Colette put out her palm, closing her hand over the knife. Ren could see him sober instantly as he released her and backed away. She smiled for a full second before she started to panic right with him.

  Colette continued to smile, her hand outstretched, Nico's knife sticking through her palm. Ren's stomach turned as Joe came up behind her, hugging her and watching with her sisters as he stumbled backward and ran for his car. Colette kept waving as he sped past them, the car swerving wildly down the street.

  When he was out of sight, she pulled the blade free and handed it to Ren. Ren dropped it into her purse.

  "Can we go home now?" Joe said with a sigh as she wrapped her jacket around Colette's hand.

  Ren and Joe flanked their sister as they began to walk again.

  "You're a little scary, you know that, right?" Ren whispered softly as they walked.

  "I love you too, Ren."

  "You are both grounded," Joe huffed as she held the jacket tight around Colette's hand. "And Ren, you owe me a new jacket."