Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(2)

Bruce calls Hannah’s father “The Space Cadet,” which always annoys Hannah more than it should.

He’s not all there. Like, he checks out.

It’s true, even though Hannah doesn’t want it to be. Her dad is loving, present for her—always has been. But he does sort of blank out and drift away when things get hot; even when they don’t. He’s in his own world a lot of the time—on long walks, or zoned out in front of whatever game, the computer.

But you know, Bruce is quick to add, if I were married to your mom, I’d check out, too.

Mako, Hannah’s older brother, left the table after he’d finished eating and has noisily fallen asleep on the plush sectional beside the towering Christmas tree, visible in the huge open-plan space. An explosive snore draws all their eyes.

Hannah laughs; she’s always been close with her brother, closer than most siblings. They’re friends, confidants. They’ve had each other’s backs as long as she can remember. In fact, she can’t imagine who she’d be without him.

“He’s put on weight,” says Sophia.

Hannah glances at her brother. He looks bigger around the middle maybe, but still fit, virile. He doesn’t look unhealthy. He works too hard, driven by things Hannah doesn’t always understand. He barely sleeps. Eats way too much junk food.

Sophia’s comment is directed toward Liza, Mako’s wife. As if somehow it’s her fault. Liza, a part-time vegan, yoga influencer—whatever that means—is a size zero. Hannah is happy to have dieted and exercised herself to a size twelve after the baby. She’s been bigger. All the people on her father’s side of the family are bigger, as her mother rarely fails to point out. Sophia is so thin that her collarbone looks like a shelf.

Mako has consumed at least twice as much food as everyone else. While Liza has eaten precisely one paper-thin slice of turkey, a small helping of Brussels sprouts, no bread, no potatoes, and three glasses of water. Not a drop of alcohol. Not that Hannah was paying attention, or trying to mimic Liza’s choices and portion sizes. Even if she had, it really wouldn’t matter. Hannah would never be a size zero. Which was totally okay.

“He’s under a lot of stress,” says Liza, her shoulders going a little stiff. “He’s a stress eater.”

That was true. Hannah knew the feeling—anger, sadness, frustration, worry and all she wanted were carbs.

“The new game is about to launch and he’s working twenty-four-seven,” Liza continues, glancing over at her husband with a worried frown. “His personal assistant quit without notice. And this is his first day off in weeks.”

“Did she?” asks Hannah. This is news to Hannah. She wonders what happened there though she can probably guess. She looks down at her plate.

“Yes,” says Liza. “Anyway—good riddance. She had very bad energy.”

Hannah agrees. The young woman had always been snippy with her on the phone, a bit frowny when Hannah came into the office. She’d been tall and stunning—not beautiful exactly, but exuding a kind of raw sexual energy. Yeah, thinks Hannah, good riddance. Hannah is going to suggest that her brother hire a male assistant next time.

Mako has also had too much to drink. He’s had five bourbons. Five. Hannah, if she drank five bourbons, would need to be hospitalized. She decides to rise to clear the plates after all. Her father seemed to have forgotten his offer, but Bruce and Liza rise as well to help.

“Maybe if he had a home-cooked meal every now and then, he wouldn’t eat so much junk,” says Sophia, an edge to her voice.

There it was. The opening shot. Hannah realized that she was literally holding her breath. She forced herself to release it.

But Liza just offered a polite smile. She was, in many ways, a lot like Hannah’s dad. Even. Slow to anger. Mako, and even Hannah on a bad night, might engage with Sophia, leading to an all-out battle. Which was exactly what Mom wanted; it was sadly the only way she knew how to be intimate. It had taken a couple of years of therapy for Hannah to come to that particular realization.

But Liza just deflected.

“Mako doesn’t like my cooking,” she says, casting an amused glance at Hannah. Hannah feels a rush of gratitude for her sister-in-law. “He likes Taco Bell. That’s his go-to.”

“And yours.” Hannah nudges Bruce. “You two eat like teenagers when you’re working like this.”

Sophia seems amused by the three of them and the moment of ignition passes. They all finish the kitchen while Mako snores on, then gather in the living room. Mako stirs to seated, rubbing at his eyes like a kid. “What did I miss?”

“Only everything,” says Liza.

He drops an arm around her shoulders and she slides into him, looking up. Pure adoration, that’s what Hannah sees. Her brother always inspired that in women. It’s not his looks, though that’s part of it—a kind of boyish beauty, thick lashes, big, strong arms, wavy dark hair that he’s always worn longish. There’s something about her brother that makes girls want to take care of him. Liza loves Mako; Hannah sees that clearly.

“What’s this now?”

Hannah’s dad is behind the tree. This is an old Christmas trick of his. Hiding his presents until the end of the night, after everything else has been opened and you thought there was nothing left. Hannah loves this moment, when she thinks the holiday is over, but then there’s one more surprise.