Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(5)

Of course it would be. He wouldn’t be gunning for some shack in the middle of nowhere. That wasn’t how Mako rolled. Go big or go home. That was all.

Obviously, Liza is driving. Hannah moves over to her and Liza offers a quick, bony hug,

“Thanks for everything today,” Liza says.

“I really couldn’t have done it without you,” Hannah says. And Liza smiles, sweet, warm. Hannah decides that she is going to work on getting closer to Liza this year.

Liza climbs into the driver’s seat of the new Tesla.

“Take care of yourself,” Hannah says to Mako, moving away from the car. “Don’t work too hard.”

He laughs, runs a hand through his hair, looks at Bruce who stands beside her. “I’ll try not to.”

Bruce has joined them at the car. Mako claps Bruce hard on the shoulder.

“Anyway, things are a lot less stressful now that Bruce has saved my ass.”

She’s not sure what that means. Some glitch in the game that Bruce found and fixed. But sometimes the two of them are speaking a language she can’t understand. She knows they’ll both be working around the clock until it launches. Such is the nature of tech.

As the car glides away, silent and smooth as a shark, Bruce stands behind her, and they wave until the car is out of sight. The air is cool but balmy, palm fronds whispering. Somewhere a halyard clangs, a neighbor’s boat rocking in one of the docks behind the houses. Christmas in Florida.

Bruce stares after the car a moment, something strange on his face.

“What?” Hannah asks.

He shakes his head, seems to snap back from his thoughts. “Nothing. All good.”

Later, her parents and Gigi sound asleep, Bruce in front of his laptop “just checking in on a few things,” Hannah takes a moment to sit in front of the tree. Its lights glimmer and shine. She stares at the ornaments—some handmade by her and her brother from their childhood, collected from family vacations, tiny framed pictures of Gigi—gifts Hannah made for her parents this year. It’s peaceful. Now that she’s older, she gets it. The quiet space after the storm can be a blessing.

Hannah picks up the Origins box. It probably was Mako. Just like him to give a gift that causes trouble. He’s always been a mischief maker. And really—who else?

“Was it you?” she asks her husband who sits at the kitchen island, face glowing blue in the light of the screen. He glances over at her blankly.

“Huh?”

She reaches for the box, holds it up to him. “Was it you?”

“Me? No, no, no. I say let sleeping dogs lie.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just—you know.” He lifts his shoulders, shoots her an innocent look. “Don’t go looking for trouble?”

There’s something funny about the way he says it. She’s about to press.

“Give me a minute okay? I’m almost done here.”

When she gets up to turn in, Bruce still working, she takes a final bit of wrapping to the garbage. She digs in, looking for the box Liza threw away. It’s a waste to toss it, right? It’s expensive. Maybe if it was Mako’s gift, he can send it back. But she doesn’t find it.

The Origins box is gone.

She puzzles over this a moment, then she walks over to the front door. It’s locked. Bruce has set the alarm. She knows there’s a motion detector in the doorbell, that sets off a chime on her father’s phone when someone arrives there. There’s no way those gifts were delivered without his knowledge. There’s no way someone could get in now, while they were all sleeping.

They are safe. She’d always been concerned about that. Captain Safety was her family nickname growing up. Since motherhood, that quality (flaw?) has edged toward paranoia. She peers out onto the street and sees a black BMW parked there. There are other cars lining the street as well, people visiting for the holiday. The houses on the street are all decorated wildly for the holiday—blow-up Santas and lights in the palm trees, glittering reindeer on lawns. She watches for a moment. All is calm. All is bright.

Hannah moves over to her husband, and slips her arms around him, puts her lips to his neck. He shuts the laptop lid—a little too suddenly? She pretends not to notice. He spins around on the stool and she moves into him. He puts a hand to her cheek, leans to press his mouth to hers.

“Really?” he whispers, as her hands start to work at the buttons on his pants. “I thought you didn’t like to—you know—in your parents’ house.”

She doesn’t care tonight. Something about her brother, the Origins test, the wine she’s had, Liza, her mother, the tension of the holiday, of family. The sadness of a joyful moment passed. She wants to push that away. She wants to be with the person she chose in this life, her husband. She wants to show him what he means to her.

She drops to her knees.

“Hannah,” he says, voice just a moan. He glances uneasily in the direction of their bedroom. “Your parents.”

She gives him a wicked smile before she takes him in her mouth; he groans, grips the bar.

Discussion closed.

In her family, Hannah is always the good girl, the responsible one, the fixer, the mediator.

Sometimes, though, it feels so nice to be bad.





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Hannah