The great Molldrea scandal of 2022

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"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs Davenport."

"Oh please, call me Paula."

"Oh, of course! I'm uh, Pete. You've got a lovely place here, Paula."

"Yeah, lotta useless junk." Scratch tapped a fancy looking vase, unimpressed. It promptly began to wobble with intent and the ghost had to jump in quick to steady it. He received a light slap on his hand from Sharon, upon turning around. "What? I fixed it! -Ow ow ow ow ow!" He was promptly grabbed where his ear would be and dragged along. Darryl gave him a sympathetic look from under her other hand's iron grip, shiny trinkets still spilling out of his pockets.

Molly skipped ahead to where her dad and Andrea's mom were talking, eyeing the large photos on the walls. Lots of very professional-looking photo shoots of the Davenports and a younger Andrea. It was a weird sight to see her hair brown. Or to see her at all lately.

"So," Sharon started, huffing to join up with her husband and their host with two boys in tow. Mrs Davenport gave a disapproving glance at her son who was still looking around with grabby hands but said nothing. "Why did you invite us here? My husband usually works for the city..."

"That's right." Pete added, placing a hand on her arm. Scratch tried to reach out for salvation, but he let the invisible ghost's arm phase through him, unsympathetically. "Although, if you have a three-way partnership in mind I'd love to be involved. Brighton could really use the funding!" Despite the attempt at a joke, there was something a little desperate about Pete's chuckle. Paula didn't seem to notice.

"That sounds nice. Maybe another time." The redhead said airily. "But actually, my husband wanted to talk to your family about a different kind of partnership..."

Soon the group approached a large pair of mahogany doors. Paula let them inside with a proud look on her face, revealing a rather unimpressively bland home office. Sitting by his desk, ranting into a phone, was Mr Davenport himself.

"No Tim, that was three shipments of mini fridges. What am I supposed to do with-?! Oh. Hold that thought, I got a meeting-" Hanging up, the man quickly leapt to his feet, arms wide. "McGee's! So lovely to see you!"

The family shared a mix of weirded out looks. A silent agreement that they were all thinking about last Christmas with distrust passed between them. Pete broke the contact first, stepping forward regardless with his hand outstretched.

"Mr Davenport! So great to see you too."

"Yes, yes-" The other's handshake was quick, like he was neither expecting, nor wanting one. "Take a seat all of you." He said quickly upon pulling away, gesturing to the armchairs across from him. They were the nicest looking things in the room- presumably because the comfort of investors was the only thing he didn't deem worth cutting costs on.

There were only two, so Pete gave his up for Sharon while she dragged a wandering Darryl firmly into her lap, locking him in with her arms, like a seatbelt. He pouted in place. Mr Davenport, strangely, told Molly to take the other seat while Scratch reclined atop the back of it, laughing at Pete's failed attempts to look natural leaning against a bookshelf.

"I'll go get you some refreshments." Paula said, before taking her leave. Darryl whispered that he'd checked and that wasn't the way to the kitchen before Sharon shushed him.

"Now:" Mr Davenport's usual cool, brisk tone had been replaced by one filled with faux warmth and an almost practised conversational ease. "I hope you've all had a good week. No trouble at school?" He winked at Darryl, who glared in return.

"Um, no, not really." Sharon replied with a forced, nervous grin.

"You know if you don't count the fire." Scratch snarked, rolling his eyes and Molly had to hide a laugh.