Page 106 of Knot Just for Show

“Tch, you’re telling me.” I glare at him, knowing all too well exactly what Teddy means.

“Woah,” Ursula breathes —her citrine eyes looking up and down the Queen Anne Victorian mansion in all of its glory.

“Pretty impressive, eh Princess?” Teddy leans over and places a kiss on her cheek.

“Y’know Teddy…I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that nickname was totally appropriate until this moment.” She shakes her head in disbelief as Lysander, Ash, and Ronan help Emily shuffle our luggage up onto the walkway.

I’m about to reach for one of the impressive brass handles of the double wooden doors; elaborately carved with bunches of oaken grapes and fans of carefully crafted fig leaves, but a pair of young men burst through the open doors, their identical faces and ash blond coifs giving the impression of seeing double however briefly.

“Welcome home Mr. Ewing!” they offer their salutations in unison—hurrying forward to collect the luggage from Lysander’s hands before splitting off to greet the rest of us, another young woman bringing up the rear with a large brass luggage trolley like the kind you’d see in a fancy hotel.

“Leo and Ascher, would you mind getting our guests in and settled? I have a call I need to take.” Lysander frowns at thescreen of his smartphone, ushering Emily past him so that she can pile the trolly high with our belongings.

Damn, not even past the property tour and already Lysander is back at work. Maybe this will make me look like less of a work-a-holic by comparison. A toxic thought, sure, but an honest one all the same.

“Of course, sir,” the pair reply in eerie unison.

“I promise to be quick.” Lysander hooks an arm around Ursula’s waist, pulling her in for a kiss. “My business partner and best friend Tasha is coming for dinner with her wife—and she’ll turn me inside out if I don’t take care of this little work situation before I see her tonight,” he explains, before deftly excusing himself: “Leo and Ascher will show you around, gimme like half an hour max.” Leaving us in the capable hands of the somewhat creepy twin house staff.

As it so happened, Lysander ended up taking far longer than a half an hour.

Leo and his twin Ascher escorted us through the grand salon, the reading room, the library, the guest rooms, the two massive bathrooms outside of the nest wing, the ballroom with its vast, sparkling parquet floors and elaborate gold-trimmed walls—the wall of French doors leading to the west terrace, drawn with lace curtains to help soften the blaze of the midday sun.

Ursula actually squealed aloud when we were trotted into the massive east wing; the entire side of the mansion dedicated tothe omega nest, nursery, children’s and playroom for our future family.

The nest itself, a massive bower of silk velvet, French linen, and creamy mulberry silk, rendered in shades of blue; tiny pinpricks of light emitted from fiber optic lights installed in the dark blue plaster swirled on ceiling like starlight—a chandelier fashioned to resemble the phases of the moon—a perfect golden crescent dangling from its center overhead.

Nearly twenty feet in diameter, the titanic circular bed at the center of the space will more than certainly fit all of us comfortably; it’s cerulean satin duvet cover shimmering like a flat pond under the lights until Ronan belly flops into the center with a triumphant whoop.

“Somehow this is even nicer than the fucking luxury villa we just left,” he marvels—rolling over and patting the space beside him with an open hand.

Ursula drops her purse and jumps—arms and legs out like a starfish, onto the bed next to him.

“Oh my god, this is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever touched in my life,” she moans with delight, sweeping her arms and legs up and down as she lays on her back—as if making a snow angel in the satin duvet.

As I watch them—I think about the walk home from Pomme Verte; I could walk down 3rd all the way past St. Brendan’s or shoot down 6th—pick up kimbap onigiri for a 2AM snack at the 24hr konbini on Kingsley.

I could take my bike, no need to get a car; I’d sell my place, look into that spot on Hobart that Ash and Lysander mentioned.

As much as I’ve been looking for excuses—I’m finding it hard to talk myself out of this.

“Um, what in the serial killer bullshit is that!?” Teddy bursts out—his forehead pressed against the huge circular plate glass window at the far end of the room.

The nearly ten feet in diameter circular window had been covered with two layers of curtains when the twins deposited us in the nesting room; a dove grey chiffon layered over with heavy navy velvet—studded with white crystal stars.

Baffled by his sudden outburst, not being able to see anything from this angle—the blackout curtains having been drawn as we entered the room.

“Oh…uh, yeah, that does look somewhat concerning.” Ash squirms slightly over Teddy’s shoulder, only adding to my curiosity.

“What—is there some kind of effigy or private cemetery out back?” I scoff—sidling up to the window.

My breath catches and my stomach lifts as if I’m riding the viking ship at the carnival—the momentary weightlessness before the ship swings two and fro from its highest point.

It’s not blood, that can’t be blood—it wouldn’t be so…red. I have to tell myself as I look down at the massive rectangular swimming pool and attached hot tub below—an alarming shade of scarlet rather than the usual aquamarine or deep azure.

“Dad had strange tastes, that’s for sure.”

The sound of Lysander’s voice practically in my ear almost makes me jump.

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