“Plans change.”
“So do families.” Reece reached out her hand and waved it in front of Ridley’s face, just a simple flourish, like a magician waving his hand over a top hat. I flinched; I don’t know what I was thinking, but for a second I thought Ridley might disappear. Or more preferably, I might.
But she didn’t disappear, and this time, it was Ridley who flinched and looked away, like it was physically painful to look Reece in the eye.
Reece peered into Ridley’s face, as if it were a mirror. “Interestin’. Why is it, Rid, when I look in your eyes all I can see are hers? You two are as thick as thieves, aren’t you?”
“You’re babbling again, Sis.”
Reece closed her eyes, concentrating. Ridley squirmed like a pinned butterfly. Reece fluttered her hand again, and for a moment, Ridley’s face dissolved into the murky image of another woman. The woman’s face was somehow familiar, only I couldn’t remember why.
Macon clapped his hand down heavily on Ridley’s shoulder. It was the only time I’d seen anyone touch her, except me. Ridley winced, and I could feel a twinge of pain shooting from her hand, down my arm.
Macon Ravenwood was clearly not a man to be taken lightly. “Now. Like it or not, the Gathering has commenced. I won’t have anyone ruining the High Holidays, not under my roof. Ridley has been, as she so helpfully clarified, invited to join us. Nothing more needs to be said. Please, everyone have a seat.”
Lena sat down, her eyes locked on the two of us.
Aunt Del looked even more worried than when we had first arrived. The man in the opera cape patted her hand reassuringly. A tall guy about my age in black jeans, a faded black T-shirt, and scuffed motorcycle boots wandered in looking bored.
Ridley handled the introductions. “You’ve already met my mother. And this is my father, Barclay Kent, and my brother, Larkin.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ethan.” Barclay stepped forward as if to shake my hand, but when he noticed Ridley’s hand on my arm, he stepped back. Larkin drew his arm around my shoulder, only when I looked over his arm had become a snake, flickering its tongue in and out of its mouth.
“Larkin!” Barclay hissed. The snake became Larkin’s arm again in an instant.
“Jeez. Just tryin’ to lift the mood around here. You’re all such a bunch a whiners.” Larkin’s eyes flickered yellow, slitted. Snake eyes.
“Larkin, I said that was enough.” His father gave him the kind of look only a father can give a son who’s always disappointing him. Larkin’s eyes changed back to green.
Macon took a seat at the head of the table. “Why don’t we all sit down? Kitchen has prepared one of her finest holiday meals. Lena and I have been subjected to the clatter for days.” Everyone took their seats at the enormous rectangular claw-foot table. It was dark wood, almost black, and there were intricate designs, like vines, carved into the legs. Huge black candles flickered in the center of the table.
“Sit over here by me, Short Straw.” Ridley led me to an empty chair, across from the silver bird holding Lena’s place card, as if I had a choice.
I tried to make eye contact with Lena, but her eyes were fixed on Ridley. And they were fierce. I just hoped Ridley was the only one her anger was directed at.
The table was overflowing with food, even more than the last time I was here; every time I looked at the table there was more. A crown roast, filet tied with rosemary, and more exotic dishes I’d never seen before. A large bird stuffed with dressing and pears, resting on peacock feathers arranged to resemble a live bird’s open tail. I was hoping it wasn’t an actual peacock, but considering the tail feathers, I was pretty sure it was. And sparkling candies, I think, shaped exactly like real seahorses.
But no one was eating, no one except Ridley. She seemed to be enjoying herself. “I just love sugar horses.” She popped two of the tiny golden seahorses into her mouth.
Aunt Del coughed a few times, pouring a glass of black liquid, the consistency of wine, into her glass from the decanter on the table.
Ridley looked at Lena across the table. “So, Cuz, any big plans for your birthday?” Ridley dipped her fingers into a dark brown sauce in the gravy boat next to the bird I hoped wasn’t a peacock, and licked it off her fingers suggestively.
“We’re not discussing Lena’s birthday tonight,” Macon warned.
Ridley was enjoying the tension. She popped another seahorse into her mouth. “Why not?”
Lena’s eyes were wild. “You don’t need to worry about my birthday. You won’t be invited.”
“You certainly should. Worry, I mean. It’s such an important birthday, after all.” Ridley laughed. Lena’s hair started to curl and uncurl itself as if there was a wind in the room. There wasn’t.