Chapter Twelve #2
Gran is insistent that I stay and if I argue I will lose my opportunity to spend more time with Juliet.
I gather my belongings and I follow Gran and Juliet up the walkway to the front porch, letting my driver go back to the car park so he can return the car and make it to his family before the worst of the storm hits.
It's scary and also a little exciting to be in this predicament. It’s the third time the weather has forced Juliet and I to spend time together.
I'm starting to think fate might be involved.
I keep thinking that I shouldn't have kissed Juliet. I shouldn’t want her like this.
But the way she laughed on that sleigh ride, fearless even when the runners skidded over the ice, it hit something buried so deep inside me I thought it was gone.
She’s brighter than the Christmas star. I wasn’t trying to charm her with that line.
I meant it. And the realization terrifies me.
The storm is rolling in fast. Snow has already blanketed the streets.
“One more minute out in that,” Gran says, “and you'd be sliding all over the road with my granddaughter in your car.” Her scowl deepens. “Well, come on in and take off your coat. you can put it on the coat rack and I'll get us all something to drink. Scotch good for you?” yeah.
“Scotch sounds great.” I do my best to give her a warm smile.
“I don't see any other enemies here do you?” This makes me laugh out loud.
Gran’s home is simple and modest. It is part of a colonial style building that has been separated into several dwellings.
What I love about this era of architecture is that everything is ornate and exquisitely made.
In Gran’s apartment there is a tall foyer that has dark green wallpaper with pretty white flowers scrolling on vines from the floor to the ceiling.
Behind the foyer is a large living room with a view of the very nasty weather outside.
Though it is only six in the evening the skies are dark and gloomy.
The snow is coming down so fiercely it's blanketed the shrubs outside of the building.
On the left hand side of the living room is a cozy kitchen with a dining room table and old fashioned appliances.
Gran is busy muddling around in the kitchen.
Juliet sets her stuff in the foyer then meets me in the living room.
I can see to the right side of the living room there is some kind of office or library crammed full of books.
“Do you want me to show you around?” Juliet must have noticed my curiosity because I am very fascinated by the architecture.
As a boy I loved perusing architectural digest and fantasizing about the way the rich lived. We didn't have money at the beginning. My father made some shady deals that brought in money quick and dirty. However, those dreams of having everything I ever wanted still haunt me.
“I would love to have you show me around,” I say to her.
She takes me to a small study off of the living room lined with bookshelves, then shows me the ornate bathroom that is connected to the study.
We go upstairs and on the second floor there are three bedrooms and a bathroom.
Juliet shows me to the guest bedroom which is a decent size with a full-sized bed, brightly colored striped wallpaper, a handmade quilt, and a few family pictures in frames.
Juliet explains to me that Gran's bedroom is on this floor as is her husband's old bedroom that still has not been touched.
They stopped sleeping together in their later years because grandpa had a snoring problem.
Julia then has me follow her up the last flight of stairs to a cozy little attic bedroom where she has a twin bed, nightstands and a little sitting area by the window that is now partially covered in snow.
“Can you get on the roof through this window?” I ask, looking out the snow lined glass.
“I do it every night.” Juliet confesses. “But there will be no going out tonight; it's deadly outside. I can't believe Gran forced you to stay here. I'm sorry, Marcel. I'm sure you have a million better things to be doing.” She really does look remorseful.
“Skidding all over the road doesn't sound like a lot of fun nor is it very safe.” I don't tell her that I would rather be here with her than anywhere else on earth.
“It's strange how we keep ending up together,” she says to me and yet I don't think it's strange at all.
It's magical and wonderful, and kind of reminds me of legitimate Christmas magic. “Maybe it's a winter miracle,” I tease.
“Maybe you'll be visited by the ghosts of Christmases past, present, and future,” she teases too and I love her for it.
We go back downstairs and the cozy little kitchen smells like nutmeg and bread when we step inside. Gran hands me a warm toddy made with apple cider, cinnamon, and Scotch and I am in love.
She offers Juliet one too and Juliet says, “I’d love one, but hold the Scotch.”
Gran gives her a loving smile. “Never much of a drinker.”
What makes me laugh is that Gran is. She puts a healthy amount of Scotch in her own drink and I already love her company. We take our drinks into the living room with a plate of cookies that Gran grabs as we walk out of the kitchen.
“So you're killing the library during Christmas?” Gran goes straight for the jugular.
“Well, I won't be able to kill it by Christmas, but we are creating a housing complex with amenities and entertainment that I think you and your friends at the library might enjoy instead.”
“You touch that library and you're annihilating the community’s spirit by ripping out its heart. You tear down their homes, you displace them, you’re destroying their legacy. You’re taking their humanity and their lives.” She’s straight up.
I look outside the window of her small neat home and wonder how I might escape this, but the storm is unrelenting. I’m stuck here, forced to face my villainy.
Gran doesn’t gush or fawn. She doesn’t beg for the library.
She treats me like a man she doesn’t particularly like, but one she’s willing to feed and offer booze.
And somehow, that small gesture lands harder than any business deal I’ve ever made.
Juliet stands beside her grandmother, protective and proud.
Gran hands me a cookie without a word, like an unspoken truce and I’ve never felt more like a Grinch.
An alert on my phone blares announcing that all the roads are closed.
Everyone is ordered to shelter in place.
There's a website with a list of places that are accepting people and the gravity of this storm finally hits. This is real. I text my driver to make sure he made it home and I get a thumbs up on my query. There’s a level of relief there.
The news anchor on TV calls it “the worst storm in a hundred years.”
“Roads are closing,” Gran says, sitting down at the couch with her cocktail.
“No one’s going anywhere tonight. You’re in the guest room, Marcel.
I’ve got clean sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the linen closet.
No one leaves here without my permission.
” She’s something, this wonderful old lady.
Juliet sits next to her grandmother and I take the seat across from them, wondering what is next for me.
Will I be flogged? Burned at the stake? Forced to watch endless Christmas rom-coms about evil corporations taking over small town, family owned establishments?
Turns out neither. The three of us linger in Gran’s living room for hours, the fire popping and hissing while Gran regale us with stories of the families in Eaton and the tales of hardship and triumph that lead to their successes.
I enjoy the stories of Juliet’s childhood, and find myself laughing more than scoffing, but then I’m three cocktails in and Gran likes a heavy pour.
We do watch one rom-com about a bakery that is being taken over by an evil bank.
The bakery wins, the evil banker learns to manage the bakery, but never really learns to bake.
He kisses the girl in the end and trades his suit and tie in for .
.. an ugly Christmas sweater. I’m literally sweating thinking that this is somehow a precursor for the rest of my life.
After the movie ends Juliet announces that it’s late and excuses herself.
The house feels smaller without her in the room.
The storm’s fury rattles the old windows and threatens to blow the roof off.
I clear my throat. “Would it be ... inappropriate if I asked how Juliet grew up? What was she like? I loved the stories of her sneaking cookie dough out of the bowl and befriending squirrels, but as a person, was she curious? Did she get good grades, did she date boys?” I’m pressuring Gran, I know, but I’m desperate to understand Juliet.
Gran narrows her eyes, considering, then sighs. “Don’t you break her heart, Dubois.”
“I have no intentions of dating your granddaughter.”
“I kick liars out in the snow,” she glares at me.
“Just give me a few pointers.” I relent, throwing up my hands. “I’m way out of my league.”
“At least we can agree on something tonight. She was a good kid, a bleeding heart. She has no idea how beautiful she is, she’s got freaky good genes, the rest of the family—apart from her cousin—are not as hot.
She legitimately wants to see the world become a better place and I hate to disappoint her, but the world is shit. ” Go, Gran for calling it as it is.
“You can tear down the library and be a real Grinch. I’ll find my friends again and we’ll rebuild our lives, but you’ll break her heart.
There is no coming back from that. If you go up those stairs and enter Juliet’s room tonight, you better fucking bring a white horse with you or you’ll never step foot in here again.
Merry Christmas.” She gives me a wink and I nearly hug her.