Funny Girl

CHAPTER 8

Grace was two years older than Harry, and for a long time, due to lifestyle choices and various loops that had been thrown at her, she had taken on the role of mothering her younger brother. He always seemed so Devil may care, but Grace knew better; he was hurting. Harry was always hurting, deep inside, and she hated to see it. There was no time where it was more apparent than holidays, and she had been dreading Thanksgiving for months. Regardless, she was hosting, and planning to make it as big a to-do as she could; after all, if left to her father, Thanksgiving would be dinner at Morton's. So Grace had decked out her and Mason's apartment with festive fall foliage décor and pulled out her wedding china to set the dining room table; she had purchased several bottles of champagne in addition to the requisite red wine and gin for Harry. Mason had been tending to the turkey all morning, and it was beginning to look and smell exactly as it should.

Around 1PM, she quickly showered and changed into a cream colored cashmere sweater with a deep scoop neck, and a black wool crepe skirt; she put on the gold necklace with the pendant of the Eiffel tower hanging delicately against her collar bone. She fluffed up her blond hair and pinned it into an elegant up-do, and swiped some shimmery pink gold eyeshadow on her lids.

Mason walked into the bathroom as she was touching the pendant at her neck. He came over with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss the side of her neck. She put a hand on the side of his face affectionately and they looked at each other through the mirror. Even after six years of marriage, Grace still felt a slight fluttering in her chest when she looked at him. He was the dark opposite to her blonde beauty; an mix of African-American, Irish, and Venezuelan, Mason had deep chocolate colored skin as smooth as velvet, and sharply defined features, squared off jaw, and thickly lashed hazel eyes. It was hard to look at him and not be moved. He gave her a wink.

"Everything is perfect. It's not on you how they behave," he told her gently, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Grace nodded. She knew that. Holidays with the Conlans was always an interesting time. Her mother had adored all holidays, and had insisted on huge celebrations; ever since her death, holidays turned her father into more of an insensitive brute than usual. His target was always Harry. She was hoping, this year, to change that.

The doorbell rang. The married couple locked eyes.

"Showtime," Grace said.

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Harry gave his brother-in-law a one armed hug, and glanced around the round, marble-tiled entrance foyer, which had been strung up with white Christmas lights and fall leaf garlands. It was pretty, but kind of hysterical at the same time. He lifted a brow at Mason.

"Are we in for it today?"

Mason only grinned, hanging Harry's coat up in the closet. "It's an Eiffel tower kind of day, bro."

Harry took in a deep breath to fortify himself. Whenever Grace put on that necklace, which had been their mother's favorite piece of jewelry, you knew she was going to be intense. He lifted the bouquet of lavender roses he'd picked up on the way, and headed toward the kitchen to find his sister.

"Harry!" Grace wrapped her arms around him in a tight squeeze, before stepping back and looking him over. Although they lived in the same city, she hadn't seen him in three months. He had been living at the office and going out a lot; one of the reasons she felt worried about him. But he looked okay. Maybe a little thinner than usual. Still handsome like a Greek God. That's what their mother always said. Harry kissed his sister's cheek and handed her the flowers.

"I'm afraid these don't match your...situation over here." Harry gestured at the décor in the kitchen, which again, looked like the Autumnal Equinox had thrown up all over it. It even smelled like pie spices.