“Thank you for coming with me.”
“Of course, babe. You’ll be attending my crazy family shindig next week. It’s the least I could do.”
We lock arms and stroll up the sandstone walkway to the massive two story home. My father’s always been wealthy, and unafraid to spend that money on comforts. I knock on the door and wait. Karen opens the door, polished in her navy blue maxi dress that shows off her tan. Her silver hair is pulled back from her face. She’s an attractive woman with her oval face, high cheekbones, and warm blue eyes.
“Oliver, we are so happy you’ve come for brunch today, and oh! You’ve brought a young lady with you. Please come in.” She ushers us inside.
“George, Oliver is here,” she calls.
“Thanks for having us, Karen. This is my girlfriend, Quinn. Quinn, this is my step-mother, Karen.”
“It’s so lovely to meet you, dear,” Karen says as she shakes Quinn’s hand.
“Likewise,” Quinn replies with a smile.
“Oliver.”
I look over Karen’s shoulder and meet my father’s green gaze. There’s a warmth I’m afraid to trust. My father’s always seemed cold to me. I know time can change people, but he’s always been the type to plan things. Is this a chance at a real reconciliation or an angle he’s working? Quinn nudges me in the side with her elbow.
“Hey, Dad. This is my girlfriend, Quinn. I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”
“Of course not. Welcome to our home, Quinn.” He steps forward and shakes her hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Hemnway.”
“Please, call me George.” He flashes a confident smile and kisses the back of her hand. The petty part of me wants to push his face away. His charm only gets better with time. My mother would say it was the one thing I inherited from him.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made the basics ... eggs, bacon, toas
t, fruit, and oatmeal,” Karen says.
“That sounds delicious,” I reply, extending an olive branch. I’ll never approve of her affair with my father, but I’m done punishing her. Life’s too short for that.
We make our way into their kitchen, and she leads us to the breakfast island where she’s got everything set up buffet style. I admire the white subway tiles on the wall that contrast with the stainless steel appliances, and white and gray Pegasus marble counters. The dark wood high back stools contrast with the stark white of the kitchen. We all take our seats in front of the black square plates with the ornate napkins in rings on top of silver wear. She pulled out all the stops for this. We dish up our food and settle in.
“How are you healing?” my father asks.
“Good. I’ll be done with physical therapy soon, and the rest will be up to my body to finish healing.”
“That’s good to hear. The whole thing was frightening,” Karen says.
“Yes, it was,” Quinn agrees.
“So, Quinn, tell me what is it you do?” Karen asks, clearly trying to keep the awkward silences from falling.
“I’m a makeup artist. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of beauty makeup for weddings, and other events, but my main focus is movie makeup.”
“Oh, how exciting,” Karen says.
“It can be. I love being on set, especially when it requires prosthetics which take a very specialize skill set.”
“Like monster movies?” my father asks.
Quinn smiles broadly. “Exactly. Or sci-fi. That’s always very interesting.”
“I bet it is. Have you ever worked with someone really famous?”
“Not yet. But I still have some years in me I think,” she says with a wink.