Chapter 23 - Em #3
Idris and Stan both command the space, pulling the group into overlapping conversations. I stand beside Lix while he explains a dry noodle dish called pancit, pronounced paan-suht. He tells me I “nailed it” the third time I repeat the word. The dish tastes so delicious that I go back for thirds.
Lix explains that some Filipinos believe that eating noodles on their birthdays contribute to their longevity. I find that to be a fascinating superstition.
At the corner of my eye, I notice Darius growing tenser as time passes. His gaze keeps returning to the driveway beyond the gardens. Idris seems to see it too and stays within reach.
Then moments later, with many dishes downed, the sound of cars approaching can be heard.
Gravel answers beneath the tires. Voices thin out as heads turn toward the side entrance.
Footsteps follow, several sets at once.
Set enters with his staff flanking him, smiling broadly at the gathering. His sharp teeth show as his eyes move over us, his hands spreading in practiced presentation, as though this were a stage he’s stepped onto rather than a garden.
Behind him, his staff carry the gift Idris mentioned.
It’s a chess table made entirely of clear crystal, its surface catching and bending the sunset’s light. His staff move it carefully, exchanging silent gestures before selecting the precise spot where the garden meets the mansion’s double doors.
The matching crystal chess pieces follow, each one placed with intent, gleaming in glass forms. Two stone stools are set last, one at either end, aligned with exact symmetry.
Set watches the process with open satisfaction, his smile never wavering as he steps forward to admire the result.
Around us, curiosity stirs, but my stomach tightens. I don’t attribute it to the food. Everything they’ve served me since staying at this estate has agreed with me.
It’s Set’s presence that makes bile climb up my throat. His smile doesn’t sit right, nor does the way he dismisses his staff once they finish, sending them away.
Set greets his sons after, drawing them in with brief words and measured attention before turning to Elle.
He offers her his congratulations with a flourish, explaining that while he understands chess may not be to her taste, it has always been dear to him.
He speaks of memory and strategy, of long games played and lessons learned, of moments he clearly considers formative.
Elle listens politely, nodding at the appropriate intervals as he continues.
I don’t follow much of it, but since he’s handed over his gift, the rest are presenting theirs as well.
Kaye skips over to Elle, with Damon at her side. She clears her throat, seeming earnest. “Alright, so,” she starts to say, glancing at Damon, then back at Elle. “This one’s…big.”
Damon hands Elle a slim folder. Kaye watches her open it, barely containing herself.
“It’s a deed!” Kaye blurts. “For a community center you can build close by. Somewhere you can do some more much needed good. For Darkhaven. To fix it, or I don’t know, at least make it less of a hellscape.”
Elle stares down at the papers, appearing stunned to silence. Her hands tremble as she looks up, eyes brimming with tears.
Sterling steps in beside her. “And whatever you want to build there, Elle,” he says, “I’ll pay for it.”
She’s still searching for words when he reaches for her wrist, sliding a jade bracelet into place without spectacle. She doesn’t seem to notice, but I do. The shimmering green draws my eye, reminding me of my mother’s irises.
Stan leans close to my ear. “Silver thinks he’s so slick,” he murmurs, amusement threading his voice.
Before Elle can recover fully, Stan kisses my cheek and takes Lix by the hand, tugging him along.
“Our turn!” Stan says to Elle. “Since we interrupted your honeymoon, we thought we’d make it up to you.” He gestures between himself, Lix, and me. “Disney cruise. Tickets. The works. On us.”
Sterling frowns. “A fucking Disney cruise?”
“It’s not for you,” Stan replies. “You’re just there to be her butler.”
Sterling glares at him. “I’m her husband.”
“Okay, fine,” Stan says, smirking. “Head butler.”
Sterling grunts angrily while Stan simply keeps smirking. Elle laughs, the sound rather endearing. Lix sighs, fond and long-suffering.
While they carry on, Idris walks toward me. “Would you care for a match?” he asks, head turning toward the crystal chess table.
I follow his gaze, taking in the board where it stands, more suited to a gallery than a game.
Still, I say, “I would.”
Idris smiles at that, allowing me to choose which side to sit on. I take the one facing the people gathered nearby.
I look down at the pieces, noting how they’ve been arranged, ready for play.
Idris takes the first turn, fingers lingering above the board before selecting a piece. Soon, the game begins with measured movements, one after another in quick succession. Crystal meeting crystal with restrained sounds of light clicks.
I can’t catalog every exchange in this fast-moving chess match. My attention slips in and out, catching on conversations around me rather than strategy in front of me.
Even though I can hear Stan joke, while I watch Damon and Darius listen to Set, Idris is the closest to me, so I hear him more clearly.
“Oddly enough, I’ve found that family has a way of shaping the board before you even sit down,” Idris says at one point, while he moves another piece. “Lineage, more specifically. You think you’re playing freely, and then you realize you’re responding to what was set long before you arrived.”
He gives a brief laugh, shaking his head as we trade pawns.
“Listen to me. I must sound like my father, talking about leaving behind a legacy.”
The comment is light, nearly dismissive, but his hand hesitates over his next move.
“Being here around the Song-Smiths made me realize something,” he says. “They’re intentional about what they build.” His gaze lifts, following the sound of Elle and Kaye laughing somewhere behind him. “It makes you reconsider what’s worth preserving.”
I nod, though my focus slips again as I slide a piece forward, answering his move more by instinct than planning.
Behind Idris, Set’s voice carries across the garden as he addresses the group, his attention fixed on Damon and Darius, a glass held loosely in his hand.
“It’s important not to rush into important decisions,” Set says, smiling as he speaks. “Strength takes time. You have to slow down. Let things mature.”
My fingers glide, intercepting Idris’ line, his words about legacy registering only in fragments.
Stan joins Set, glass in hand, his laughter cutting through their conversation. “If you’re talking strength, I’m your guy.”
“Ah, Stanley,” Set says, his smile widening as he places a hand on the bigger man’s shoulder. “You have your mother’s smile. Has anyone told you that?”
Stan’s grin vanishes. He frowns, raising a brow instead.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” Set says, withdrawing his hand.
His attention drops to the amber liquid as he swirls it.
“Ah, I should slow down on the drinking and return to my earlier point,” he continues.
“Take this whiskey, for example. Damon tells me it comes from your father’s side.
Japan, fifty years. You can taste the patience in it.
” He lifts the glass, reflecting the sunset.
“A reminder that some things only improve when given time.”
Stan snorts. “Live slower. Real inspiring.”
Set chuckles at Stan, then stares at Damon.
“Your mother understood that,” he says, voice warm despite the cold line of his smile.
“She believed in letting things grow stronger over time. Kys, for instance.” His teeth gleam beside the glass.
“She always knew when to wait, and when to make a timely return.”
The space around us tightens with tension at the mention of her possible waking. Idris has his back turned to them, still talking while he makes another move on the board.
“Have you ever thought about leaving a legacy of your own, Em?” Idris asks, a faint flush visible in his cheeks. “I’ve thought about choosing someone I love the most in the world to have it with.”
I answer his move, only dimly aware of doing so.
Stan tilts his head, studying Set with clear curiosity. “You know,” he says, his frown staying, “you talk about Ma like you had the hots for her.”
Set’s smile doesn’t falter. “Admiration,” he corrects.
Stan hums. “Sure.”
“Slow down, Stanley,” Set says again. “You’ll understand these things better with time.”
Darius hasn’t spoken, only standing rigid beside Damon, eyes fixed past the garden wall, glass untouched in his hand.
Idris notices where my attention has gone. His next move is abrupt, crystal clicking louder than before.
“Come on,” he says to Darius as he rises. “Let’s go for a stroll.”
Darius doesn’t resist. He lets himself be guided away, his steps stiff as they disappear down the deeper garden path.
I look back down at the board.
My next move would have been checkmate.
Idris, deliberately or not, has been arranging the board for me to win.
I don’t give it much thought, especially when Lix walks up to me, holding out his hand.
Simply seeing him draws my attention away from the conversation Damon has commandeered, regarding Kaye’s upcoming gender reveal.
Stan cuts in with a joke about Damon “buying out an entire lake just to dye it blue.”
The winter breeze threads through Lix’s nearly shoulder-length auburn hair under the low sun.
I should register the cold too, yet warmth pools low in my chest as his deep blue eyes find mine, my heart accelerating in response.
With him, time feels expansive, as though nothing is required of us beyond existing.
“How about we walk off the carbs?” he asks. “My body’s buzzing to move.”
I take his hand, our fingers fitting together well, and we drift away from the noise of the gathering.
The garden path curves ahead of us, frost crisp beneath our steps.