Page 1 of Better Watch Out

CHAPTER ONE

“You’re joking.”

The door creaks open, reminding me that my dear father has never been good at home maintenance. Hell, I wonder if he doesn’tlikethe creaking that brings down the appeal of the otherwise nice house.

Well, pretty nice, anyway. I’m sure if I look around even a little, I’ll find random things needing repair. Not to mention that even with my step-mother’s sister coming to clean once a week, I know I’ll find dust on the higher places and things put away haphazardly.

She’s certainly not the best at her job, but with my step-mom paying her bills, she doesn’t have to be.

“I’m so sorry, Conor.” My dad’s voice is rough and tired over the phone, and I barely pay attention as I watch my copper and white husky trot into the house with her tail curled and wiggling. “We’ve been trying all day, but all the flights got canceled. We can’t get anything at all until?—”

“If you say after Christmas, I’m going to lose it.” I step inside and slam the door closed behind me a bit harder than was strictly necessary. “Seriously, if you’re not coming, then I’ll just get a flight…home.” My words die off lamely, and my heart sinks.If they can’t get a flightupto Lake George, what makes me think I’ll be able to get a flight backdownto Illinois?

“Conor….” There it is. The voice I’ve grown to hate ever since my mother died. I know this game, and the windup that will inevitably follow. First will come the apology.

“Seriously, you don’t know how sorry I am.”

Then the heartfelt sympathy plea.

“I wanted this so badly. I haven’t seen you in years, and you know how much I’ve been looking forward to getting together for the holidays. Your step-mom, too. She’s been planning this for months now. Hell, the lake house is even decorated already.”

He’s right, I notice, as I stride into the open kitchen and dining room. Garland is hung in festive loops from the windows and counters, and there’s a miniature Christmas tree planted firmly on the dining room table, complete with itty-bitty ornaments and fiber optic lights. But we’re not done yet. I know next I’m in for?—

“Look, I’ll pay for everything okay? We’ll find the soonest flight back for you, and anything you need up there is on us. There’s a store in town and they’ll deliver to the house, plus that little coffee shop you used to love.” He sounds plaintive now, and I know we’re reaching the end of this performance.

“Yeah, okay. Just…I want to leave as soon as possible, okay?” I mutter, stopping to look at the large living room that connects to the deck outside. In the distance I can see Lake George, and I know if I stroll around the deck to look back the way I drove in from, I’ll see the Cat and Thomas Mountain Preserve.

Memories flicker through my brain, each one trying to push to the forefront. While this had never been our permanent home, we spent enough time here during summers and holidays for me to grow to love it. I remember as a kid begging for us to sell our house near Buffalo so we could just live here full time,instead. I’d created a powerpoint and everything, complete with information about the local schools.

Obviously that never happened, and maybe it’s a good thing for me it didn’t.

After all, Bolton’s Landing, in upstate New York, would’ve been a lot harder to escape than Buffalo.

“Whatever dad,” I mumble, cutting him off in the middle of another rambling promise. “I’m just going to look for the next flight out.” I suppose there are worse places to spend Christmas alone, and some part of me that hadn’t been snuffed out as a teenager is a little bit excited about the idea of spending another holiday here for the first time in seven-ish years.

Especially without the problem of my family here that chased me away in the first place.

“And hey, uh…” Dropping my bag to the floor, I sink into one of the couches I’m sure were my step-mom’s choice. They’re comfortable, andbeige, but I can move past the color when the seats are as plush and nice as they are. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”He sounds distracted, like he’s already moved onto his next event for the day, or at least something that’s a lot more palatable than breaking bad news to me. Not that he hasn’t had a ton of practice.

“It’s just going to be me, right? Since you and Cheryl aren’t coming?” No matter how much my step-mom wanted to beMomto me, that had never been on the table. Which she’d surprisingly taken pretty well, all things considered. But then again she had enough work parenting her two kids to last a lifetime, so I can’t help but wonder if my distance from her was a relief.

Dad’s quiet for a few moments, and worry starts to prickle at my chest. Whenever he’s quiet, it’s normally because I won’t like the answer.

“Hmm? Sorry, hon. I was flipping the pancakes. You know it takes all of my concentration.” He laughs at his own joke, but I just wait for the answer that better be the one I expect. “Yeah, you’re alone up there. It was just going to be the three of us for Christmas, and since two of us don’t have flights up…” He sighs loudly. “Which I’m so sorry about. The weather wasn’t supposed to take a turn until after the holidays. But you know how the mountains are.”

Well, I really don’t. Not anymore. “Okay, sure.” It’s hard not to addwhateveronto it like a sulking teenager, but somehow I manage. “I’ll…figure something out aided by a lot of coffee in my veins.” It’s difficult to sound casual and not disappointed, but I give it my best effort. It’s not so much that I’m sad at missing spending Christmas with my estranged father and step-mother.

It’s more about having to spend Christmas herealonein a place holding a mixed bag of memories.

After another round of apologies and promises to make it up for me, I’m finally able to hang up and settle back on the comfortable couch. “There are worse places to spend Christmas,” I mutter with a sigh, mentally mourning the baked macaroni I’ll be missing out on at my best friend’s house this year. Her family had taken me in one time for Christmas and now I feel like they’re my surrogate family.

It’s…nice.

Nicer than a lot of things with my real family.

Nails clicking on the hardwood alert me to Sitka’s reappearance, and I open my eyes to see her standing in front of me, tongue lolling as she pants excitedly. “This is your first time up here, huh?” I murmur, reaching out to rub her ears. “God, you’re gonna love it when we’re snowed in up to our ears.” In response, her tail wags harder, though I rationally know it’s just because I’m paying attention to her and not because she’s looking forward to a brutal snowstorm.

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