property last week and thought, Christmas tree,” he says. “Betcha didn’t know that I’m handy with an axe.”
“I have an axe?”
“Of course you have an axe. What, you’ve never used one?” He kisses me on the cheek as if he finds me adorable, his pampered little princess, and then steps back to admire his handiwork. As he squints at it, his smile falls away. “Shite. It’s lopsided.”
“No, it’s perfect. Where did you find the ornaments?”
“In a closet in one of those rooms upstairs that we never go in.” He senses my hesitation. “Was that OK? I wanted it to be a surprise. Our first Christmas together, I thought it should be special.”
I can’t quite pin down what about this bothers me. Is it that he’s been poking around the house without me knowing about it? That he suddenly knows more of Stonehaven’s secrets than I do? But why would this be a problem? I wanted him to feel at home here.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “But I should have warned you sooner, we need to spend Christmas down in Ukiah, with Benny.”
Michael tilts his head slightly, as if trying to straighten the tree in his mind. “It’s a little creepy to spend the holiday in a psychiatric ward, yeah?” He reaches out to adjust an ornament but it falls to the floor and shatters, scattering tiny shards of gold glass across the floor. We both freeze.
I bend over and start to pick up the broken pieces of ornament. “It’s not what you’re thinking, it’s nice there. Look, you haven’t even met Benny yet. He’s wonderful, you’ll see. Eccentric, but wonderful.” My face is hot, something twisting and squeezing in my chest.
Michael grabs my shoulder, stopping me. He plucks a piece of glass out of my hand and cups it in his own. “Don’t cut yourself,” he says. “I’ll do it.”
I watch him as he crouches over the polished floors, gently sweeping up bits of glass with the side of his palm in a way that reminds me—with an ache—of Maman, and the little glass bird. “Why don’t we just have Benny here?” he asks.
“Benny won’t come here. He hates it here, remember? Besides, I’d still need to go down to sign him out. He can’t just leave there on his own.”
“Right.” He looks up at me from where he’s crouched on the floor. “Is he in line to inherit Stonehaven if something happens to you?”
What a strange question! “Of course he is. Unless I redo my estate and designate a different trustee.”
“Right. It’s just—” He frowns. “You told me that he said he wanted to burn this place down, is all. And he’s not so rational, is he?”
“God, that’s morbid. Can we not talk about that kind of thing?”
Michael nods. He crawls across the floor to retrieve a piece of glass that’s landed up against the wall. He picks it up and then sits there for a moment, his back to me. I see his breath rise and fall faster than it should and it looks like he’s upset. Have I said something wrong?
“Benny’s the only family I have,” I say softly. “I can’t spend the holidays without him.”
“I’m your family now, too,” he says. He sounds wounded; I’ve hurt him. I didn’t even think of that. It never crossed my mind that marriage requires a reshuffling of your priorities, with spouse on top and parents and siblings in the middle and your own needs somewhere far down below. (Where do children fit in all that? I wonder. We haven’t even discussed the fact that I want a baby, sooner rather than later. Was it wrong of me to assume he wants one, too?)
I stand there, my jaw working up and down, not sure how to respond. Eventually he rights himself, his hands glittering with brutal flecks of gold, and looks at me. I can see him measuring the distress in my face, and I also see the shift in his own when he makes a decision. He’s done some shuffling of his own. He softens, and reaches for me. “I want to make you happy,