They did not speak. However, there was nothing they could say…their actions would speak for themselves as would mine. Entering my master room, I took off the towel around my waist, tossing it onto the couch before my bed…a gift of my aunt’s, who’d done the whole remodeling of the mansion after my father’s death per my request and to the annoyance of both my siblings. By the time they’d finished breaking down walls, putting up new ones, and recreating the whole floor plan, the room looked unrecognizable. Gone was my parents’ modern classic bedroom, and in its place, my rustic one, double in size with dark mahogany from floor to ceiling.
There were no doors, except a single one to enter and leave. Walking to my closet, the lights brightened in a row as I passed my suits, heading straight to the middle tabletop, and scanned my finger. The lid slipped back, allowing me to lift the very last gift my mother had gotten me before her death, a silver Diamond Back Colt revolver 38 Special, the words Che sarà, sarà engraved on the wooden butt of it.
Loading a single inside, as I did every morning, I put it to the side as I reached for a suit. It did not matter which; I’d be burning it at the end of the day.
Ringgg.
“Is she here?”
“Yes, sir,” Toby stated.
Not replying, I hung up.
Not even a second later, I could hear her voice from behind the door.
“Ethan?”
“Here,” I said as I buttoned up my navy shirt.
She entered, wearing a bright yellow tailored suit and black heels. Her hair was dyed a copper-blond and cut right above her shoulders.
“Nana, we’ve spoken about this. You’re seventy-three. You can’t go around upstaging twenty-year-olds like this.”
“Flattery.” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I can testify all Callahan men have mastered it. Unfortunately for you, years of exposure have made me immune.”
“Should I switch to insults?”
“Would you like to die?”
I smirked at that. “Are you threatening the Ceann na Conairte?”
“Is that what you’ve become now?”
My jaw clenched as I reached for my tie. “Grandmother, I haven’t had breakfast yet. I’d advise you to take heed and stop.”
“Oh well…” She gasped, taking a seat on the leather bench against the wall separating suits from the rest of my clothing. “Only because you’ve advised me.”
“I turn twenty-eight on Saturday.”
“I am aware.”
Was she? “That’s a year older than my father when he’d gotten married to my mother.”
She laughed. “Is that why you’ve been agitated…well, more agitated…than normal lately? Had your grandfather not forced him, he would have waited till he was—”
“Thirty.” No matter what, for him to be respected as head of the pack, the Ceann na Conairte, the rules, yes, rules set by my senile, also dead great-grandfather, and passed down from father to son, demanded we marry.
“You still have two years.”
“Aren’t grandmothers supposed to be worried they’ll die before seeing their great-grandchildren?”
She sucked her teeth angrily. “Are you saying I’ll die before you get married? Me, who’s lived to see your great-grandfather, your grandfather, great uncle, and father murdered? I’ll somehow have a shorter life than you?”
Turning around toward her, her eyes narrowed and eyebrows arched.
And it was funny to see her act so gentle and relaxed… “After almost twenty-eight years, you’d think you’d understand my sense of humor by now?”
“You’d think after almost twenty-eight years someone would have told you that you aren’t funny in any sense.”