Silent Night Sins

Chapter 1 – Nicole

The afternoon sky was heavy with a shroud of grey.

I stepped out of the ride-share Tesla feeling as though I’d beat Mother Nature at her own game.

I was home, the holidays were here, and now the snowstorm could howl and rage, while I enjoyed it from the cozy comfort of the family living room window.

Fresh from an international flight, I was ready to start a new chapter of my life.

Hopefully, one that was more successful by my family’s estimation.

Gazing up at the house, I frowned. It was dark inside. There wasn’t even an outline of a tree, waiting for nightfall to glow.

Did they not decorate? That seemed highly unlike my posh, socialite stepmother. If the neighbors had ten-foot trees, she had a twelve-footer. And yet her living room window was eerily empty.

“Here you go, Miss,” Eduardo, my driver, said as he wheeled the suitcase along the pre-salted sidewalk. “Do you want me to carry these inside for you?”

I hoisted the backpack over my shoulder and reached for the handle, careful to keep the duffel bag balanced on the top.

Each piece of luggage bulged at the seams, the contents ready to split the zippers open.

“No, I’m good. Thank you so much, and I know your granddaughter will love her new dollhouse. ”

The one he’d spent all summer building in his garage. The meticulous details were hand-carved banisters, fitted trim, and plank flooring that was a miniaturized version of something off HGTV. I’d never met anyone who spent that much time making a gift. Certainly not my grandparents.

The driver beamed at me. “Thank you, Miss. Merry Christmas!”

I tapped on my phone to let the app know I’d arrived. I also increased the tip, tacking on an insane amount. Going to his passenger window, I rapped my knuckles on the glass.

Eduardo rolled it down. “Yes, Miss?”

“Use some of the tip money and buy your granddaughter a horse like this, from me. Okay?” I held up my phone, which was switched to the internet tab showing the 18” doll display. “I had a plastic pony just like it, and I remember my sister and I spent hours playing with them. So much fun!”

His eyes widened. “Bless you, but you didn’t have to do that!”

I shrugged. “She’s not going to love it as much as the house, but it will add to the holiday joy.”

He chuckled. “That means I’ll have to build her a stable next.”

I winked. “Exactly. Merry Christmas, Eduardo.”

“Have a blessed holiday, Miss.” With that, the driver took off.

He was driving this month to make extra cash to buy his wife a new stand mixer.

The money I left made sure he reached his goal, and then extra for the pony and whatever else he wanted to buy.

I might not have my own life together, but helping people who did made me feel like it was a step in the right direction.

Turning back to the silent brownstone, the joy took a decided dip. It was the only house on the block that didn’t have a tree in the window.

Maybe Carole was waiting for me to come home to put it up.

Yeah, right. Like my stepmom would risk not keeping up with the Joneses for something considerate like that. I lugged my belongings up the steps, punched in the code from the text message, and stepped inside.

The empty hall greeted me with a bleak embrace.

I frowned. The banisters were freshly polished. There wasn’t a speck of dust on them. And the smell of soap from the mopped floors wafted through the space. It added up to the overwhelming feeling of abandonment.

Where was the garland for the stairs? Why wasn’t there a wax scent pot or, better yet, a simmer pot of spices and fruit filling the house with cheer? I shut the door and video called my sister.

Amanda picked up after two rings. The corporate powerhouse stared down at her phone, as if answering under her cubicle desk. “You landed!”

“Yeah, where the hell is everyone?” I tried not to sound salty.

My sister pinched the bridge of her nose. “You didn’t get Dad’s message?”

“No,” I drawled.

Amanda sighed. “Lyra called this morning. Dad’s stuck in DC until January Fifth.”

The words sent my heart dropping to my stomach. “And Carole?”

“She extended her girls' trip until then.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “It’s just you and me, sis.”

“And you won’t be here until Christmas Eve,” I pouted.

That gave me two weeks alone in this mausoleum.

“I’ll try to make it over on the weekends, but—” Amanda’s head jerked up. “Shit! The boss is coming. Gotta run!”

The call ended in a blink. My stunning lawyer sister was fighting daily in the bullpen of junior associates for a position in one of Manhattan’s top firms. She worked harder than anyone else, but I’d heard enough stories about the senior attorney in charge of the associates to know he would see a personal phone call as a betrayal to company time.

That man made Louis Litt look like a fuzzy teddy bear.

Sure enough, there was an unread voicemail from Lyra that I must have dismissed when my phone bubbled to life after taking it off airplane mode.

Lyra was the assistant to my father’s secretary, and she explained in her most professional voice that the merger for the capital venture company was going to take more time, and my father’s firm had to stay through the holidays to execute the legal matters.

That was how bad communication was in our family.

I didn’t even hear from the secretary, let alone from Daddy Dearest. It was always Lyra who sent important updates such as this.

And my biological mom? She lived on some ranch, where a settlement of free-spirited people shared the necessities of life, read poems around the campfire, and smoked a hell of a lot of pot. We rarely heard from her.

Leaving my luggage in the dim foyer, I wandered into the kitchen, where a fancy bottle of red called my name.

I plucked one from the cellar attached to the walk-in pantry, knowing Carole only drank the most expensive vintages.

At least there would be no shortage of good booze this Christmas.

The sweet sound of glugging filled a glass moments later.

I’m not going to cry. There was no point throwing myself a pity party.

Being let go from the gallery I slaved for came as a shock last month, but it wasn’t half as bad as finding my boyfriend screwing a leggy mademoiselle on his kitchen table this past fall. I took a healthy sip and cursed his shriveled, mostly limp penis.

Neither of those facts were things my family would find out. I would rather die than let them know the truth. It was already bad enough that I was coming back without a job lined up and waiting!

Life might have kicked me down, but coming home was me giving it the middle finger. I was looking forward to being Stateside again. A good old-fashioned Christmas was just the thing I needed to perk me up. The New Year was going to see a refreshed, revamped me who was ready to take on the world.

I chugged a few gulps of wine.

“They can’t beat me if I don’t try,” I gasped, slamming the glass on the marble island with a little too much force.

There was still Amanda.

There was still me.

And I would be damned if there wasn’t an overwhelming amount of Christmas spirit to bring us back from the brink of despair.

Gathering my iron resolve, I pulled up my phone and began to shop.

Store after store, I digitally ordered enough crap to make it look like Christmas threw up in here.

The delivery services began dropping off bags and boxes of stuff forty-five minutes later.

By the time I pulled the first bags into the foyer, the snow began to fall outside, heavy flakes that promised the ground would be covered in sheets of white by morning. Blaring Christmas music, I got to work.