12. Glass House #2
Robbie turned down a quiet little road leading into the country, and a few miles later, they were passing by sprawling mansions set on acres and acres of land.
Horses stood quietly in fields, immaculate designer dogs ran along slick black chain-link fence lines barking before they were called inside for the night, and porch lights automatically flicked on, revealing just enough of these mystery houses to pique Jake’s curiosity.
“That’s insane,” he said, pointing to a rectangular, three-story house as Robbie slowed his car. “Who’d ever need that much space?”
“My parents,” Robbie said. “That’s my parents’ house.”
“You aren’t seriously saying that this is where you grew up?” Jake jerked his head toward Robbie, who continued to stare at the road.
“They remodeled a few years ago, but yes, this was the house I lived in until my grandparents died and left the original Eaton Manor in town.”
He turned onto a smooth, paved driveway, pulling up next to the fountain in the middle of the parking area. It was more akin to a plaza in the middle of a city, just without all the people milling about. He shut the car off and sat there for a moment, perhaps steeling himself for what was to come.
Jake opened his door first, stepping out onto the asphalt. A streetlamp turned on, bathing the space in a harsh pool of light. The nearby fountain gurgled away, and Jake made his way over to it to have a look.
The pedestal had two tiers, and at the very top sat a shape that resembled a dragon’s egg. He wanted to ask Robbie if there was any significance to the water feature, but in the time he’d spent looking at it, Robbie was already on his way to the front of the house.
“Coming, Jake?” he called.
“Yeah, wait up.” Jake jogged to catch up, handing over the folder of documents when he got close enough.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
The house’s facade was covered in long, wide windows, but most were dark, either because the windows had blackout shades or because the house was just that massive that most of the rooms weren’t being used.
Jake doubted he would be able to see much inside one of the dark rooms even if he pressed his face to the glass.
He let Robbie take the lead in ringing the doorbell, and a moment later, the tall black doors opened, and a woman wearing a black dress that looked more suited to a period piece than modern day Eventide smiled and stepped aside.
“Hello, Mr. Eaton,” she said.
“Hey, Susan,” Robbie replied.
“Are you here to see your parents?”
“I am indeed.”
“They’re in the living room. I’ll let them know you’re here if you want, or you can go through yourself.”
“I’ll go talk to them myself,” Robbie said. “Oh, and Susan, this is my friend Jake Wynn—Isabel Haver’s nephew.”
Susan, who Jake now noticed had blonde hair and wrinkles around her pale eyes, gave a subtle head nod. “Hello, Mr. Wynn.”
“Call me Jake,” he said quickly. “Nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand, but Susan didn’t reciprocate. Quietly, Robbie stepped in front of him, pushing his hand down for him as they brushed past the maid. “She won’t take it,” he whispered. “You’re a guest, not her friend.”
“That’s fucked up,” Jake whispered back.
“I agree, but it’s what she gets paid to do. Just roll with it for now, all right?”
Jake didn’t have much of a choice, so he merely nodded and followed Robbie through the stark white foyer and down a winding hallway like an obedient little dog.
Windows and mirrors and sharp statues were everywhere he looked.
It was almost as if the house was trying to cut him down, to expose his deepest flaws just for daring to step inside it.
The corridor they walked down opened up into a large, impersonal marble room that contrasted strangely with Susan the maid.
It was warm, or at least stuffy, but Jake couldn’t help shivering slightly.
Robbie’s parents were sitting on a pure white couch, one reading a book, the other talking on the phone.
The man, Robbie’s father, had a glass of whiskey on the black coffee table—or was it called something else when it was in a house like this? Coffee table sounded far too casual, even to Jake’s plebeian ears.
Robbie’s mother, who had been on the phone, glanced up when she heard Robbie clear his throat. “I’ll call you back, Harry. We’re not quite finished with this conversation, so do come prepared with the correct information next time.”
Jake folded his hands behind his back, interlacing his fingers tightly. Robbie’s father snapped his book closed, and Jake forced himself not to flinch too hard at the sound.
“Robert, what a pleasant surprise,” his mother said, plastering a smile on her tight, wrinkle-less face. She stood up, shooting a pointed look at her husband before he, too, stood.
“Indeed, son. Did Susan let you in?” The elder Robert pushed his round, gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. His sparse hair was all gray, but he kept it neatly combed and gelled.
“She did,” Robbie said calmly. “I told you I was stopping by tonight.”
“You didn’t,” Madeleine insisted, still smiling tensely, “but never mind that. I needed an excuse to get off the phone with Harry.”
Jake glanced at Robbie, who mouthed lawyer, then turned back to his parents. “I brought the paperwork you wanted.” He stepped forward and handed his father the folder, his fingers tightening on it almost imperceptibly before he let go.
“Excellent,” Robert Jr. said. His voice was deep and commanding, and it filled the room in a way that his wife’s cloyingly sweet yet so detached voice didn’t. “And who is this?”
Jake unclasped his hands, finally ready to shake theirs.
“Uh, this is my friend, Jake Wynn.”
“Filler words, Robert.” Madeleine shook her head. “For heaven’s sake.”
Robbie ignored her entirely. “He’s new in town, and he’s only staying temporarily.”
“What brings you here, of all places?” Madeleine asked, looking down over her nose at Jake’s outstretched hand. He suddenly saw where Robbie got that infinitely irritating expression from.
“I’m helping my aunt get her place ready—” An elbow nudged him in the ribs. “Ready for winter.”
“Your aunt…” Madeleine crossed her arms, drumming her fingers on her elbow.
“Isabel Haver,” Jake said. “My Uncle Mark died a few months ago. I’m just helping her out for a bit.
” He was already fed up with having to explain himself to every single person in town, but Madeleine and the other Robert genuinely seemed to not care, and for some reason that pissed him off all the more.
Robbie must have noticed how agitated he was getting, because he took a step away from his parents, resting the tips of his fingers on Jake’s back as he moved.
“We should be going,” he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving his parents even as his fingers pressed in harder.
“It’s late, and I’m sure you have a great deal to do still tonight. ”
“We do,” Robert said, picking his book up to open it where he left off.
“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” Robbie said.
“Goodbye, dear,” Madeleine said dully.
As soon as they had both turned away, Robbie moved his hand over to Jake’s arm, grabbing it and dragging him out of the room.
“That was it?” Jake hissed. “No invitation to dinner, no offer to stick around and talk and have fancy coffee and shit?”
“No,” Robbie said quietly, his voice much calmer than Jake’s, “and if you thought they would, then you’ve gravely misjudged Madeleine and Robert Eaton.”