A Promise To Keep Chapter One: Monique
A frigidly cold wind blew in from south, which caused all of the beautiful azaleas in Monique Harrington’s small, quaint garden to shrivel. They shriveled and withered just like her marriage was on the verge of doing. She sipped her warm hot cocoa, bundling herself deeper into her cardigan.
There were homemade oatmeal cookies on the beautiful island of her five year old kitchen, but no one there to eat them. Mark was supposed to have been home by now. Instead he was out doing goodness knows what on an important evening for their entire family. The snow was only lightly falling outside, but it didn’t take four hours to get from downtown Boston to Brookline, Massachusetts.
She had spent all night baking, cooking, and preparing their spacious colonial style home for their family members, only to discover that everyone was coming three days earlier than expected, giving her little time to prepare, let alone talk with her husband or son. When Monique married Mark, she knew that things wouldn’t be easy, but she never expected things to go so deeply astray.
Twirling her long hair wistfully, Monique remembered the good old days of living together in a small three bedroom apartment that she and Mark had shared as roommates with another student. In those days they were carefree undergrads, stumbling towards an unknown destiny. Now, bogged down by the monotony of a mortgage, bills, and 9-to-5 jobs, Monique wondered if they would ever get those cherished memories back.
At twenty-nine, Monique finally began to understand what the phrase “variety is the spice of life” meant. Day in and day out, she and Mark went about their daily tasks, occasionally going out, and even less frequently making love. Their friends were envious of their relationship, but she knew better. Mark was sick of her, possibly even losing his attraction to her, judging by his recent behavior.
Despite such troubles, their son Andrew, was happy and succeeding in school, although he was at that age in which he would continue to beg for a brother or sister because all of his friends had siblings. What could she tell him? Sorry son, there will be no babies in the works because Daddy doesn’t like Mommy anymore?
They hadn’t talked about more children, but Monique was under the impression that Mark didn’t want more kids, at least not until much later. They weren’t getting any younger, and lately she wasn’t sure if she wanted more children herself—not since she found that suspicious card on the floor of their shared walk-in closet.
The card was not of cheap stock. In fact, the border was embossed in gold. The thick, acid free paper was perfumed and the only words typed in cursive script on the card were Mischa and then an unknown email address. It looked like the calling card of a high-class mistress, or worse yet, a floozy hooker.
She tried accessing the domain that the email was listed under, but it was nothing more than a proxy to another domain, which she gave up trying to access after Firefox crashed four times in a row. On the final try, she actually got the page to load, only for a pop up to show up on the screen asking for a username and password.
What was Mark doing visiting suspicious websites like this one? The bigger problem here was the question of Mark’s fidelity. Was Mark cheating? Lately he had been absent from family meals for the past three weeks. He always came home smelling like cheap whiskey and cigarettes.
She personally didn’t drink, and to her knowledge, Mark was hardly a social drinker. Not after that fateful night in their junior year of college had he drank more than a glass or two once in a blue moon. She had preferred that he didn’t drink at all, but she knew that in his line of work, it was an expected part of the role that he played.
The cigarettes were another story. Mark didn’t smoke, had never smoked, and knew not to bring anyone to the house that did around her and their son because she couldn’t abide the smell. Yet, was she so swept up in love for her possibly and probably errant husband that she couldn’t see the forest for the trees? No. No.
Monique could readily accept lots of things. She would never be as thin as her older sister Aubrey, nor would she be as popular as her older brother Marcus. Her feet were a size eleven and were here to stay. She would never be able to dance as well as her sister and cousins, and her husband would never cheat. Those were facts that were part and parcel to who she was.
And yet... And yet why was her hand shaking as she sipped her now lukewarm cocoa? Why didn’t she follow Mark to his office a la Waiting To Exhale and expose him with one of his hot, blonde secretaries? She wasn’t so meek that she couldn’t put her husband in place. He knew that much going into the marriage. They were equal partners in this relationship and in would remain as such until they died.
Mark wasn’t crazy. They had worked too hard and come too far for things to suddenly fall apart now. The answer was quite simple really. Mark didn’t trust her. If he did he wouldn’t be so secretive about his erratic behavior.
Monique was not of the mindset that married couples couldn’t have their privacy. In fact, she believed more than anything that Mark had a right to his secrets—but what was he doing that kept him out late at night? What was he doing that was so important that he couldn’t share it with her?
Her reverie was broken by the sound of small feet stomping down the staircase. Andrew, her little ball of fire, bundle of joy, and every other cliché term for her beautiful son ran in, holding a Nintendo DS in one hand, and a juice box in the other. Ignoring her completely, he ran straight for the den, looking out for signs of his father’s car.
“Mom, when is Dad coming home?”
His eyes glowed brightly, as his small hands pressed against the window.
“So you finally decided to acknowledge my presence?”
She smirked, reaching over to tickle her cute son.
“Mooooommmmm!!!”
Monique smiled waving her hand as if to silence his annoyance. Even their son knew that something was off. Mark rarely made it home for dinner these days and perhaps Andrew noticed the tension.
“Your father will be home as soon as time permits, Andy. Why don’t you go set the pillows and sheets on the beds in the guest rooms for me? When you are done we can play a game together.”
The little boy grinned, racing off to accomplish his mother’s task. Monique smiled in amazement at the ball of energy that was her son. Just a few short years ago he was a tiny, pink, squealing little thing crying for his mother’s milk and his family’s attention.
Pulling back her hair, Monique went back to work cooking the first dinner of what she and Mark termed ‘Christmas Week.’ The entire clan of Harringtons and Mitchells would descend upon their beautiful home soon and she couldn’t help but wonder if everything would go off drama free.
Ever since she and Mark had become a couple, they had experienced the ups and downs of merged families. However, she had been hurt to learn of some of her and Mark’s family members deep seeded prejudices.
Mark claimed that he came from a family of understanding liberals who would not care what color she was as long as she made him happy. For the most part that statement was true. However, there had been a few cousins who violated that rule quickly. Heck, even her parents had their reservations about their relationship.
When he first proposed, Monique didn’t care how much trouble they would face. With Mark by her side, she was willing to meet any challenge head on. Everyone’s main argument was that any possible children would suffer from being the product of an interracial union. Monique just didn’t care. She loved Mark, and damn—it was their lives and no one else’s. She simply refused to be beholden to the ideologies of others.
The sound of cars pulling into the driveway stopped her rampant thoughts. Monique went to the window and frowned at what she saw. Instead of Mark exiting from his luxury edition, apple red Lexus, her husband’s parents, Mason and Rebecca Harrington, their sixteen year old son Beauregard or Beau, as he preferred to be called exited from their car and headed up the slippery walkway.
“What the hell are they doing here?! Rebecca told me that they would be here tomorrow evening, not tonight. Mark must have gotten their itinerary mixed up again.”
Checking her hair and makeup in a hallway mirror, Monique raced to the door, steeling herself to tolerate what was sure to be interesting behavior from her in-laws. In all honesty, the only likeable family member was Beau, and her niece and nephew, and even then she knew that they just barely tolerated her. At least she could say that Beau held genuine affection for his sister and law, but that was probably because he was going through his rebellious teenage years.
Still, it was nice to have an ally among the Harrington clan aside from Mark. She knew that he sometimes felt conflicted with having to sometimes choose between the two of them. The bottom line was that these were her in-laws, and the moment she said ‘I do’ they became cemented as her family, whether she liked it or not.
“Hello Mason, Rebecca. How are you both?”
She reached for a hug, grimacing as Rebecca Harrington shot her a smug little smirk, as if she were happy to be dropping in so suddenly. Inconveniencing others seemed to be a past time of the Harrington matriarch. Monique hugged her gruff father-in-law, before releasing him into her warm home. Beau came up the rear, grinning at cheekily as if she were the best thing since sliced bread.
“Sorry about this Mo’. The parents were determined to beat traffic as if anyone would be rushing to get to Brookline.”
The teen rolled his eyes, before his brain caught up with what his mouth had said. She grinned, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He grabbed his parents’ luggage and placed them in the den. In the den Andrew was playing with his grandparents as they quizzed him about what he wanted for Christmas.
“Andy what do you want Santa to come bring you for Christmas?” Mason asked, with his grandson on his knee.
“Grandma, I want the new GI Joe action figure, but Mommy said that I shouldn’t play with violent toys. I also got a C- on a spelling test so she said that I couldn’t get a new action figure until my grade went up.”
Rebecca cut piercing blue eyes to me as if I had committed a terrible sin by not giving into the demands of my son. It really was no wonder that Mark and his brothers were so spoiled. Beau was the only son who seemed to not take advantage of his mother’s nature towards her sons. She could feel a lecture coming about how she should reward him for “trying,” even if Andrew was capable of much better grades.
“I believe you are aware of me and Mark’s policies towards Andy’s grades. We want to instill a love of learning into him so that he will know that to get what he wants requires hard work.”
Monique said as politely as she could. Where the hell was Mark? She needed a buffer between Rebecca and herself. She thought San Bernardino provided such a border, but the Harrington’s insisted on spending a White Christmas in Massachusetts with their middle child.
“Uh, I think I’ll check on that pot roast. I really wished you all would have called me to let me know that you were coming earlier than expected so that I could prepare more food for tonight’s meal.”
Rebecca shook her head, blonde curls cascading down her back. She tut-tutted like all old school mothers did, before joining her in the kitchen and already making herself at home. Before Monique could get started on the salad, Rebecca already had something to say about the pie. After Monique corrected the pie, Rebecca went on about the mashed potatoes.
Monique longed to throw her ladle at the woman who had invaded her kitchen, but before she could do that a knock at the door broke through her brief wave of murderous intent.
“I’ll get it!” Monique cried, racing to the door, shoes off and hair wild.
Despite her misgivings, she knew that seeing Mark would alleviate some of her tension. She just couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t tell her that his family was coming home earlier than expected!
“Welcome back Mark!”
She said hugging the man whose hands were full of delicious smelling baked goods placed nearly in white cardboard boxes. She drew back when instead of feeling the broad, muscled back that she had scratched many a night during their uh, activities, she felt a slightly taller, chubbier body. Taking some of the boxes out of the man’s hands, she frowned when saw that instead of her husband, Mark’s brother stood before her.
He wore his usual “good old boy” face, and Monique found it difficult to maintain her smile. She stared at him for a minute, remembering a moment long ago which made her once question if marrying Mark had been the right thing.
“Ahem. Excuse us, darling.”
Monique craned her neck to see Darcy Harrington, her sister-in-law and Darcy’s two children, Reed and Sydney Harrington. She stepped aside, allowing them into her home and taking their coats as they shook the snow off of their coats.
She smiled at her nephew, pointing him to the cookies on the table. As usual, Reed’s eyes were glued to his latest electronic device, no doubt a gift from Darcy for barely passing muster in his classes. Sydney offered a weak smile, but no hug.
Darcy no doubt was subtly training her children to dislike her. Monique frowned, closing the oak door quickly. Mark had better get here quickly. She didn’t know how much longer she could stomach the commentary from the peanut gallery that constitued the Harrington brood.
A Promise To Keep
Chapter Two: Darcy
It was simply too cold in this town. The snow fell steadily, and despite Jeremy’s warning to bring warmer clothes, Darcy hadn’t packed any warm woolen coats or thick, fur-lined jackets. She scoffed angrily as thought about it.
Who needed an overcoat in Dallas, Texas? She certainly wasn’t going to buy a new winter wardrobe just for the sake of this reunion.
They lived in the Southwest, and she couldn’t help but long for the hospitable atmosphere of Texas and its environs. Warmer temperatures were calling, and there was no way she spend a week cooped up in this house.
Everything about this house was so quaint… From the furniture to the cars, nothing about this Harrington residence indicated sophistication, or trend setting modernity.
Darcy just wished that she had been able to convince Jeremy that they and the kids could go down to Cancun for Christmas vacation. Anything was better than dealing with Mark and his wife.
She didn’t feel like feigning interest in whatever activity Monique was participating in, nor did she desire to hear about the new underlings at Mark’s workplace.
Mark as usual, was always a gentleman, but like all of the Harrington men, a tendency to brag resided in his veins. It was as if the Harrington boys were stuck in their ‘Me-Man-You-Woman’ routine.
He treated her with respect, but with it came the caveat of her being Jeremy’s wife first, and her own person second. She sometimes thought he saw her as an attachment to Jeremy, someone who could be replaced.
She and Jeremy had been married for eighteen years, and yet Mark thought that he could surmise her where her relationship stood.
His significant other however, was an entirely different story. Monique always seemed to be uncomfortable whenever the families joined together.
She would smile, and play the good hostess, but the smiles were feigned, and her eyes were dull. Darcy could empathize with the younger woman, but not by much.
Darcy Harrington nee Brighton was born into wealth. A certifiable Southern belle, Darcy’s blood was as blue as they came. She descended from wealthy Englishmen and could trace her history back into the 17th century. Therefore, she sometimes found it hard to relate to such a regular, normal woman.
As for her husband, despite Jeremy’s ‘good old boy’ personality, he was still managed to charm her frigid mother with his charisma. Her mother had grown to like Jeremy, but her father still believed that she could do better.
The Harringtons were well to do, but they weren’t as wealthy as her family. They were new money, and as such incomparable to her family in her father’s eyes.
Her slate grey eyes stole a glance at Monique as she began placing food on the table. Perhaps the source of Monique’s discomfort with the Harrington bunch lay in the fact that she was a run of the mill kind of woman. She came from an average middle class family.
She didn’t grow up in the lap of luxury, and she wasn’t used to some of the benefits of that wealth provided. The two women were as different as oil and water.
They didn’t have much common ground, but Darcy could see that Monique took her hostess duties very seriously. Domesticity seemed to be Monique’s element. That in itself was a marvel because while she wasn’t entirely sociable, she did her best to make sure that her guests were accommodated.
Even now, as she fluttered about the house finishing last minute tasks, she seemed ignorant of her guests’ opinions about her.
It wasn’t that Monique was outright rude, she just seemed unduly nervous and closed off. It was as if everyone around her were merely placeholders that could be easily removed when she found something better.
Whatever the case, Darcy wasn’t blind to the woman’s beauty. Jeremy had always given her a more than cursory glance each time that they were in each other’s presence. His eyes would sparkle in a way that they hadn’t for her in a long time.
It seemed impossible to miss the longing glances that he sent her sister-in-law’s way. Darcy didn’t mind the whole ‘look, but don’t touch’ motto, but for Jeremy it was more than that. It was as if he did look and had touched. To her credit, Monique was either completely oblivious to his attention, or she just didn’t give a damn.
Monique would never be a classic European beauty as Darcy herself descended from, but there was an untouched innocence about her, a purity of sorts, which had lasted into her adult years.
Darcy frowned then, wanting to remove thoughts of Monique and Jeremy from her mind altogether. Rolling her cobalt blue eyes, she surveyed the others in the room. Mason and Jeremy were engrossed in football talk.
Sydney and Beau were probably looking for a way to get out of the house, and little Andrew and Reed were addicted to the television screen as they played on that ridiculously named Wii game system.
Having been here for two hours, and she was already bored out of her mind. Should she ask Monique to show her around all of the trendy hotspots and shopping areas? It was going to be a long week and she was glad that they rented separate cars so that she could go into the city and do some shopping.
Perhaps she should invite her daughter along. She and Sydney could spend quality time together, as they had done when her daughter was still innocent about the ways of the world.
Sometimes, she wished that she could go back to that time when Sydney wanted nothing more than to emulate her every step. Sydney was growing up, but sometimes it seemed as if she were getting older a little too fast.
The smell of roasting beef and apple pie wafted through the room, thus shaking her from maudlin thoughts. She was sure that tonight’s dinner was high in calories and in fat, but the smell of roasting potatoes, and sugary apple crusts, made her forget her South Beach diet. Christmas was about having fun right? Besides, she could go for nice, home cooked meal.
“Darcy, sweetheart, how was your flight up here?”
Rebecca asked as she chopped celery, onions and other low calorie vegetables. She moved into the kitchen, smiling as she heard Silver Bells playing on the surround sound stereo system. Though she was a little annoyed being here, she liked Christmas music as much as the next person.
“I’m just experiencing a little jet lag. I think I just need to rest a bit. Once I wake perhaps we can plan some outings this week. I wanted to get a little shopping done and I am sure that the men won’t mind.”
Rebecca nodded, stirring a bowl of cake mix in one hand, and carefully reading a Martha Stewart recipe book in the other. Darcy eyed her frazzled sister-in-law, quite glad she wasn’t asked to make anything.
“Monique, which bedroom will Jeremy and I be staying in?”
Monique, finally cognizant of other women in the kitchen, turned to face them. She cradled a cordless phone between her neck while her hands stirred melted white chocolate and crushed peppermint fragments.
“Can you hold on for a moment Mama?”
Monique asked, rolling her neck to bring back much needed circulation. Monique gestured towards the stairs. Darcy could tell that the younger woman didn’t like being bothered. Pssh! It wasn’t as if I wanted to come anyway.
“You and Jeremy can take the bedroom at the end of the hall on the third floor. Mason and Rebecca, we set aside the second bedroom on the left on the first floor. Reed and Andy can bunk together. Sydney and Beau can sleep on the pull out beds in the den.”
Monique returned to the phone, back to ignoring our presence. Darcy gathered her luggage and headed upstairs eager to get away from the banality of Christmas with Mark and Monique. All she wanted at the moment was a nice drink to get rid of the stress, and a hot bubble bath.
Not everyone wanted to play Susie Homemaker on their off days. Darcy was one of those “what-you-see-is-what-you-get” types of women. Thankfully, Jeremy understood that much. Her husband knew that her element was in hiring caterers and overseeing production, not being a part of the manual labor.
She found the guest bedroom relatively quickly. Jeremy was still downstairs; probably downing the Seagram’s neat as if it were going out of style. She could hear Reed and Andrew playing a video game down the hall.
Sydney of course was texting like crazy, desperately trying to avoid interaction with her parents.
Darcy sat on the chaise, scrolling through messages on her Blackberry. So far she had received several messages from her best friends. No doubt, they wanted to make her green with envy. Meanwhile she was stuck in the suburbs of Boston freezing her gorgeous ass off.
When the phone in the room began to ring, it effectively silenced her inner monologue of complaints. Couldn’t those knuckleheads downstairs hear the ringing? Monique couldn’t even answer her own damn phone?
“Oh yeah, they have two phone lines. I thought that this second line was only for family though.”
Darcy thought aloud.
“Hello, Harrington residence!”
She grabbed the cordless phone, upset that she had to do anything in this house or than relax.
“Hello, is Mark there?”
A woman’s breathy voice came on the line. Darcy could literally sense the seduction oozing from the phone. Who the hell was this woman and why was she calling this late at night?
“No, who may I ask is speaking?”
Darcy stood from the chaise, shutting the door softly.
“Could you please tell him that Lady M called? I have the item that he has requested and it is available for pick-up anytime at my private office. I’m reluctant to visit his residence, you understand.”
Darcy rolled her eyes as she listened to the woman speak. Whoever this Lady M character was, when she spoke, she rolled her consonants so that certain words came out like the purr of a contented cat.
Already this had secured her dislike of the strange woman. Darcy partially listened as Lady M barked out an address a little quickly, and then hanging up rudely before she could confirm the location.
Searching through drawers did not yield any pens or paper. Darcy knew that she had packed a small writing pad somewhere beneath layers of clothing, shoes, and other necessities for a woman of her stature.
She felt around some more, yanking out a small plastic bag.
“That’s funny. I don’t remember packing anything like this. Maybe, I brought along extra shampoo or conditioner.”
Darcy emptied the bag, and stared in shock at its contents. Inside the unassuming bag was a pregnancy test. She dropped the box as it were on fire. Looking more closely at the dark brown bag nearly identical to her own, she realized that this medium sized luggage belonged to her daughter, not her. She must have picked up the wrong suitcase in her haste.
Taking a deep breath, Darcy calmed her nerves and closed her eyes. She couldn’t just jump to conclusions all of a sudden. There had to be a logical explanation as to why her fifteen year old daughter packed a pregnancy test in with her luggage. Surely, her daughter was smarter than the other loose girls out there. She wouldn’t have done something so foolish—she couldn’t have.
Brighton girls were simply of better stock. At least, she thought her little girl would know better. Darcy walked slowly downstairs, her high heel shoes long kicked off. The message from Lady M had been forgotten as soon as she came across the little box that represented an ill omen for her family.
Sydney was talking on her iPhone, rather excitedly. From the look on her face and the gestures that she made it was probably one of her little boyfriends. She marched up to her daughter and stared at her intently, while everyone else in the room turned their attention to the unfolding drama.
“Sydney, what the hell is this box that I found in your luggage?!”
Darcy demanded, dangling the small pregnancy test in her slender fingers. Her redheaded daughter’s eyes bulged in astonishment and she whispered a half hearted goodbye to the person on the other end of the line.
“Mom, how could you rummage through my things like this?!”
Sydney screeched, bringing their argument to the attention of everyone in the household. Even Monique and Rebecca who were so engrossed in preparing the night’s meal rushed into the living room.
“What’s with all this screaming? Sydney, what’s the matter with you?”
Jeremy asked merrily, a drink in hand. Darcy frowned at his behavior. Of course her husband would be oblivious to what was going on, considering the fact that he had no idea what his children’s interests were, but then again, neither did she.
“Jeremy, while looking for a pen and paper, I found a pregnancy kit in our daughter’s luggage.”
Sydney shook her head, and balled her fists, hopeful that her pout would have some effect on her father’s good will. Jeremy may have been an occasional womanizing scumbag, but he also was wrapped around his daughter’s finger. She was getting tired of always playing the bad guy with their oldest child.
“Daddy, she went through my things to find it! What about personal space? What about private property?”
Darcy tossed the box to her husband. Jeremy needed to see for himself the proof that something was up with their teenage daughter, and not be blinded by her whiny attitude.
“Young lady, you do not have a job first of all, therefore anything you own was paid for by your mother and I. She has every right to look in your things. Now I think it’s time that you explain why you have a pregnancy test in your suitcase.”
Jeremy crossed his arms, awaiting his daughter’s answer. Sydney’s brown eyes darkened as she stared helplessly at her parents. Tears began to stream down her eyes as she faced the group of adults.
“Mom, Dad, it’s not what you think! I thought that I was pregnant, but I am not. I took the pregnancy test last night, but I haven’t looked at the results yet because I was scared okay!”
Darcy stumbled back from her daughter as if she had been struck. What could she say about this turn of events? She didn’t remember seeing any used applicator in the suitcase. Then again, as soon as she saw the box everything else flew out of her mind.
“I know you guys are ashamed of me, but it was only one time! I swear it Mom. Please don’t hate me!”
Sydney’s tears wouldn’t stop flowing, nor could her anguished tears. She exchanged glances with Jeremy whose face was unreadable. Reed and Andrew rushed back downstairs to hear the commotion.
“Reed, Andrew, go back upstairs now. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
Andrew obeyed quickly, knowing that his mother was not in the mood for his mischief. Reed stood still, looking at his mother’s for guidance.
“Do as your aunt says Reed. Go play with your cousin.”
Reed frowned, upset that he was not a part of the conversation. He could tell that his sister was in big trouble judging by the faces of the adults in the room.
“That goes for you as well Beau.”
“Why do I have to leave? I am older than Sydney! Besides, it’s almost eight-thirty! When are we going to eat?”
Rebecca crossed her arms angrily at her youngest son. He was every bit as stubborn as his older brothers and his father. Even though he was almost seventeen, he still got too wrapped up in his teenage angst sometimes to remember that he was a child.
“Beauregard Harrington, you march right up those stairs or so help me—”
Beau didn’t need to be told twice to leave because he flew so fast up those steps that Darcy thought he could be a star member of his school’s track team. Rebecca still had the power to invoke fear into the heart of her wayward children.
Monique approached the crying girl, and wrapped her arms around her. Sydney grasped her aunt’s shoulder, sniffling every few minutes.
“Sweetheart, all it takes is one time, just one time to get pregnant. Choosing to have sex is a very grown up decision, and it should not be made by anyone not prepared to accept the consequences. Surely you can understand why your parents are disappointed?”
Sydney nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I know but everyone else was going out and doing it. All my friends already have with their boyfriends, and I didn’t want to look lame.”
Darcy marched up to her daughter and slapped her hard in the face. She reeled back, surprised not so much from the pain, but that her mother would raise a hand to her. Her mother had never slapped her before in her life.
“You went and fucked some boy because you thought it would make you look cool?! Are you insane?”
Darcy moved to her as if she would slap her again, but Monique grabbed her arm, preventing such actions. She pulled the mother and daughter apart before they began fighting.
“Calm down Darcy. Let’s just talk this out like reasonable adults.”
Darcy snatched her hand away from Sydney and stared at the woman incredulously. How dare Monique try to butt in? She had every right to discipline her daughter as she saw fit. Ignoring the woman, she stared coldly at the girl.
“How could you do something so irresponsible, Sydney?”
Jeremy asked as he patted his wife’s shoulder, agreeing with her assessment completely. His little girl had obviously lost her damn mind if she thought that crying was going to get her out of this situation.
“What were you thinking? What if you really are pregnant?! You never think about the consequences of your actions, girl. I can’t deal with this right now, go upstairs to one of the guest rooms and get out of our sight!”
He demanded pointing upstairs to the guestrooms. Mason looked at his granddaughter grimly, but patted her head gently as she trotted upstairs. She offered him a weak smile and trotted upstairs.
“Listen Monique, we appreciate your concern over our daughter. However Jeremy and I will handle this. We don’t need you butting in.”
Monique frowned, taken aback by the older woman’s words.
“I’m sorry. I just thought you might need some help with Sydney. I know that you and Jeremy are struggling right now in other areas, and I figured that you two didn’t need the added stress.”
She turned towards the dining room, and began to arranging the place settings for everyone. Remembering that there weren’t enough seats, she went to retrieve extra chairs to accommodate her guests.
Instead of the usual three servings for three, she now had to make room for ten people. Darcy smirked as she watched Monique rush off for extra chairs. She knew that in her goody-goody heart that Monique was trying to help, but she needed to understand that it was not her place.
“Darcy, what’s the matter with you? You were very rude to Monique when all she wanted to do was help. Screaming at the top of your lungs won’t solve anything!”
Mason admonished, rubbing his temples with a frown. This was supposed to be a simple family get together with the Mitchells and Harringtons and already it was shaping up to be a disaster!
Monique’s family hadn’t arrived yet and there were only two bedrooms left to accommodate them, his granddaughter might be pregnant, and his daughter-in-law was taking her frustrations out on an their hostess!
“Oh please Mason. What I said to Monique was for her own good. She is in no position to be giving advice, especially when her own husband is probably cheating on her!”
Darcy said in a huff, still furious over her wayward daughter’s behavior.
“My son is not a cheater, Darcy. What makes you think that Mark would do such a thing?”
Rebecca demanded, upset that Darcy could come to such conclusions. She crossed her arms, a bit embarrassed that she had let the cat out of the bag. Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound.
Monique had already embarrassed her in front of her husband and in-laws when she showed her up by trying to lecture her daughter.
“You all remember when the phone rang about half an hour ago right? Well I answered the phone and this woman with a very raspy voice calling herself Lady M was on the line with a message for Mark to pick up a package.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes dubiously at his wife. She overreacted over every little thing.
“Babe, that phone call doesn’t mean that Mark is cheating on Monique.”
“It does when the woman is afraid to meet at his house. She asked me to tell Mark to meet her at a location, although she rattled off the address too fast for me to write it down. It was obvious from the sound of this woman’s voice that she wants him. Jeremy, a woman knows when another woman wants her man.”
The sound of shattering glass brought their attention to a shocked Monique, who stood with her mouth agape at the scene. At her feet lay the remnants of the peppermint bark she had made earlier, but it was mixed in with bits of glass.
Monique didn’t even shed a tear after hearing such startling revelations. Instead, she reached for a broom and dust pan and started cleaning up the mess. Monique couldn’t help but think that it was fitting for her prized recipe to be destroyed on such a night.
White and dark chocolate mixed together made for a deliciously sweet snack, but it was now ruined along with her relationship with Mark.
“Monique honey I’m so sorry—”
Darcy began, reaching out to comfort her. Monique jerked away, ignoring the blonde.
“Please, just save it. I don’t want to hear this, least of all from you. Could you tell the children to come down? Dinner is served.”
She brushed past the four of them, intent on ignoring everything that she had just heard. She didn’t have time to for this drama, and even if that so-called Lady M was really Mischa, there would be hell to pay when Mark finally brought his sorry ass home.
Darcy couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for the silent woman’s pain as she began to eat. Normally, Monique would wait for everyone and then ask for someone to say grace, but with the advent of such bad news all pleasantries were discarded.
Reed, Andrew, Sydney, and Beau rushed downstairs, obviously uncomfortable with the tension in the air. They took their seats and began to eat, although Sydney played with her food rather than eat anything.
Mason, Rebecca, and Jeremy were eager to relieve some of the tension and they all sat down for the meal. Darcy didn’t really want to sit next to Monique, especially not after what had just been divulged. Instead, she sat between Beau and Reed.
Even little Andrew shifted uncomfortably, and that boy had an infectiously happy personality. They had all been so distracted by the last hour of drama that no one heard the door opening, or the footsteps leading into the dining room.
Mark, looking a little less vibrant than usual, but carrying a box of a medium sized honey baked ham in his arms smiled at his family assembled at the table.
“Hey everyone, sorry I’m late. I had to run a few last minute errands. Did I miss anything?”
Darcy frowned, sipping her red wine silently. Just before she could remove herself from the room, Monique stood, slamming her napkin on the table.
“Everything is fine and dandy Mark. Except for the fact that you are a cheating, lying bastard, everything is hunky dory. Excuse me, I have to go.”
Everyone watched with rapt attention as Monique hugged and kissed her son. She whispered something in his ear before exiting the dining room and returning with her coat on and purse in hand.
“Mark, I have done nothing but love, cherish, and respect you since we have been together. I trusted you with my heart and I only asked one thing of you in return—and that was to keep the promise you made to me the night before our wedding. You have broken that promise, as well as my trust.”
“Honey, what are you talking about? What did I do?”
He reached for her arm, frowning when she snatched it away just as quickly. Tears fell down in fat drops down her dimpled cheeks. She stepped away from him, walking towards the door.
As Darcy watched Mark plead with his wife not to leave, she knew then that this Christmas was anything but ordinary. The shit has definitely hit the fan.
