Page 83 of Sweet Silver Bells
“I can’t say that I collect them.”
“Well, what else would you pack some things in?”
“A suitcase?” Hunter suggested.
Minerva threw her hands up in the air again. “Well, let’s get that. We need to pack for a few nights, though it’d be better to plan through New Year's at least.”
“And where is it that we are packing for?”
“My house, of course. You cannot stay here. Do you know how to contact your homeowner’s insurance? We will want to do that right away.”
Hunter stood. “No need. We can stay here. The bathroom and kitchen are intact.”
Minerva wasn’t hearing it, though, and stomped off towards the hallway. Hunter stared at Olivia, who smiled as they listened to his mom wrestle with leaves and branches, rustling, snapping, and polite curses audible in the not-too-distant background.
“What is she doing?” Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I think it’s sweet how much she cares about you,” Olivia said. “You should let people take care of you, Hunter.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s often not about you at all. They offer for reasons that are often entirely self-serving. Don’t deny her something that she so desperately needs.”
Hunter thought about it, and maybe Olivia was right. He didn’t go back to the forest because he was worried about Olivia. Initially, he’d gone back because he couldn’t handle his conscience, the guilt of never knowing what might have happened to her. His mom had been overbearing the moment he moved out, needing to be involved in every detail, from planning his wedding to Sarah to even helping them buy this house.
“You could be right,” Hunter said.
Maybe Mom needed this.
“Right then, it looks like we get to spend Christmas together.” Minerva popped back in, holding a suitcase that looked stuffedto the brim and one of the bags of clothes that she had just bought for Olivia.
“I’m convinced that you hadn’t put all of this away yet,” she said, beaming as the shiny rectangular bag swayed in her hand. She moved over to the kitchen and began sorting through a stack of papers on the counter, separating them into piles.
“Mom, you’ve got to stop,” Hunter rolled his eyes.
“Nonsense,” she said, putting one of the stacks into the top zipper pocket of the carry-on-sized suitcase. “I’m your mom—this is my job. Now come on, we may be able to make it back before your father drinks all the coffee I brewed this morning. You both look like you could use a shower and a nap. Chop chop!”
Hunter held his hand out to Olivia, and she stood up.
“Yes, sleep would be great,” Hunter said, his head throbbing.
“By the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed how much effort you’ve put into the holiday plants I left last time. Olivia, you must have a seriously green thumb,” Minvera said, marching towards the front door.
“I suppose.” Olivia smiled, following, pulling Hunter behind her.
Thirty minutes later,Hunter found himself in the backseat of his mom’s car, the white leather smelling like it had recently been detailed. They had pulled into the long driveway of his childhood home.
“You haven’t come home in so long.” Minerva sighed with relief. “To have this house filled with some life again is so needed.”
It was true. He hadn’t been back since Sarah died. Closing himself off in his modest home for such a long time had made him really see the opulence in which he’d grown up. The lot in itself was at least an acre. No neighbors packed in, everyone in the neighborhood was certainly too occupied with their own success to be nosy, to even notice if something was off in their community.
They drove through a gate made of thin black metal rods supported by brick pillars, their family name plated in gold and molded onto the face of the left brick post.
Trimmed hedges frosted with ice lined the way up the rest of the driveway, showing them the way until his mom pulled up to the multistory lilac-colored home with large white support beams framing the entrance to the home. A detached garage sat beside them, along with his father’s black Toyota Tacoma.
“Welcome to the Gunnan family compound,” his mom trilled, turning off the sedan and opening her door. “Oh, I wonder if it's too late to have the caterer bring a holiday ham now that we have the extra people. Now, don’t worry about gifts. You’ve been through a lot, and I’ll make sure that everyone has items to unwrap.”
“Gifts?” Olivia repeated, confused.
