I always tried to pay for things, but whenever Mr. Tom was around, and he was always around, he would literally push me aside in his haste to take care of the tab. I had no idea what kind of money was available to the estate because he refused to show me any statements or give me access to the bank accounts that were now supposedly mine, simply telling me the estate paid for itself. I wasn’t sure what sort of hands-on approach would get me any further.
I swallowed down my annoyance and reached for the envelope. I didn’t feel like getting into it with him in front of Austin. “No, Mr. Tom, I don’t have any creditors looking to get paid,” I said dryly.
“Fantastic, miss. But you do have two parents who wish to see what you are up to. I shall roll out the red carpet.”
I’d barely lifted the letter from the tray when he turned back into the house and closed the door behind him, not responding to my shouted denial that they were coming.
“Oh, and miss…” Mr. Tom stuck his head out of the door again. “They’ll be staying a week, or maybe two. Their toilet broke and flooded part of the house. Your mother launched into a rant about the lack of fiber in your father’s diet, but you can read that yourself. They are scheduled to get here in three days’ time. I’ll pick up the essentials. Have fun. I’ll alert those on bodyguard detail that you’re leaving.”
The door closed again with a soft click.
My parents were coming.
My non-magical parents were coming to a magical house.
How the hell was I supposed to keep what I was a secret?
Two
“Do your parents usually write letters to communicate instead of calling?” Austin asked as we set out toward town.
I’d skimmed the letter, shaken my head at the detailed fiber assessment, and stuffed it into my back pocket. Mr. Tom had gotten the details correct. They were definitely coming. The letter had been more of a statement of intent than a request.
“Here…” Niamh sat forward in her porch rocking chair as we passed, her thumb and forefinger curled around a rock. “What are ye at?”
“Headed into town,” Austin called.
She leaned back and continued rocking. “Let me know when ye head to the bar.”
The prospect of my parents’ upcoming visit had sent my thoughts into a downward spiral, and when I turned and looked back at Ivy House, I tried to see it as they would. An unnatural, heavy shadow fell over the massive structure, just like always, and light perpetually glowed from the top window in the attic even though that light was never on. Before my parents even got to the house, the judgments would start. I could just hear them now.
“Honey, why did you choose such a gloomy house?” my mother would ask, looking up at it.
“It’s fine,” my father would say. “The paint is the problem. You need a new coat of paint, Jessie. Maybe an off-white. You should’ve stained it, but that ship has sailed.”
“Paint wouldn’t do it, Pete. It’s just so…dark…” my mom would reply.
That would start them arguing about the best way to fix what wasn’t actually broken. As if they didn’t live in a house of horrors filled with dozens of unfinished projects, including a partial coat of turd-brown paint near the stairs.
“They do write letters instead of calling, yes,” I said, belatedly remembering that Austin had asked a question. “But only when they want to make it impossible for me to turn them down. My mom typically times it so the letter arrives the day before they do. If I try to cancel, she gives me a guilt trip about how she’s already planned her whole life around this thing, and if I couldn’t do it, why did I wait until the last minute to let her know? The whole situation used to drive Matt nuts. Matt’s the ex.”
He nodded, clearly remembering the name. “Not you?”
“Obviously it drives me nuts, yeah. But, I mean…they’re my parents. What am I supposed to do? When I need something, I can always count on them.”
“Do Matt’s parents not have any idiosyncrasies?”
“They do, but he didn’t seem too put out by them. I was, absolutely, but not him. They’re these really WASP-y socialites, so they had parties and dinners and things where I’d have to bring homemade dishes that were up to their standards, dress a certain way, and when it was our turn