* * *
Going to the police did not come up again. In between cooking and new-toy assembling, Mack and Hailey spent the afternoon discreetly searching for more cameras. The most disturbing was the one Mack found in their bedroom, balanced atop the antique freestanding wardrobe that held the TV. It was in plain sight if you were tall enough and knew to look for it, and it was covered with a substantial layer of dust. Too much dust to have accumulated since the break-in.
“Oh my god,” gasped Hailey when he showed her. “We could be naked all over the internet.”
Mack was silent; he doubted there’d be enough content for a sex tape, certainly not in the last few months. The dust bothered him more than the thought of strangers watching him have sex with his own wife; someone had been spying on them for a long time. That made it weird, but then also maybe better: the police would focus on tracing the device the cameras were connected to, and they’d find this person, and then this would be over.
It felt like they’d just finished eating the smoke-flavored egg casserole when it was time to start on dinner. Something was festering between the four adults; Mack overheard a few whispered sidebars between Eddie and Pam, and terse exchanges between Hailey and Eddie, but around him everyone was silent. The beef was too small, the raw potatoes were discovered to have turned green, Hailey kept starting little jobs in the kitchen and then vanishing, and the afternoon dragged on.
“Where does she keep disappearing to?” Pammy finally asked in despair, as she tried to manage two timers going off at once.
Mack did not reply; he had just seen a missed call on his phone from the Sandy Hollow number. It had to be Tilda calling from his mother’s room to let him know she was working today; there was no bill due yet, that much he knew, and they wouldn’t be calling about that on Christmas anyway.
He messaged Tilda’s cell, and his Facetime rang immediately. Mack heard Eddie mutter something unintelligible as he answered the phone and left the kitchen, but he ignored it. Mack sat down at the half-set dining room table and got ready to feel like the world’s worst son. He could have done without this today, and it wasn’t like what he did made any difference to his mother, did it?
“Merry Christmas, Mackie,” beamed Tilda, and her cheery voice made the atmosphere in the house feel a thousand times worse. She was wearing earrings shaped like candy canes, and behind her, next to his mother’s bed, was a miniature palm tree decorated with lights and baubles.
“Wow, that’s a real Florida tree Mom’s got there,” Mack said, after the exaggerated pleasantries were over. “That’s nice they do that.”
“I did that,” said Tilda. “I thought she should have some decorations.”
“Oh gosh, thanks.” Mack had detected the faintest trace of disapproval in her voice. “I’ll pay you back; I really appreciate it. We’ve had a crazy couple of months—”
“No need. I’m happy to do it,” said Tilda, but she didn’t sound that happy; she sounded like she thought Mack was being neglectful, if he was interpreting it correctly. “Leonora’s had a nice Christmas, I think. She’s had some turkey, and some yams, and some pie. She got lots of Christmas cards too, which was nice.”
Mack tried to keep the irritation from his face; he did not have the heart for this piece of theater right now. He could hear Hailey through the wall, rifling through the shelves in the study.
“Who’d she get cards from?” he asked with a sigh, because it was all he could think of to say. Irene Weigand was Leonora’s only friend, and Mack was pretty sure she was Jewish.
“Well, now, let’s see,” and Mack couldn’t suppress the eye roll as Tilda reached behind her to gather up the sizable collection displayed on Leonora’s dresser. His mother looked more out of it than normal and did not follow Tilda’s movements with her eyes, Mack noticed.
“There’s a nice one from Franklin from down the hall,” Tilda said. “And one from Marilyn in the office here.”
She shuffled through them, rattling off names Mack did not recognize. He tuned her out until one came up that caught his eye: a burst of sunlight shining through snow-dusted trees.
“This one’s from a company called Sunshine Enterprises,” Tilda said, opening it. “I don’t know what that is—”
Mack didn’t hear the rest because he’d let the phone fall flat on the surface of the table.
“Mack? You there?”
“I’m here. Tilda, listen to me: Can you make sure that my mother doesn’t have any new visitors? That no one—”
“Only Irene,” said Tilda, misunderstanding him. “She’s the one who suggested I try to call you. She’s gonna be up north a bit more, and I think she wants to make sure you’re being an attentive guardian in her absence.” Tilda took a deep breath, and even with the adrenaline overwhelming him, Mack could feel a lecture coming. “Now, I know it seems like Leonora isn’t aware of the festive season—”
“Tilda,” Mack said, and he did not try to hide the panic in his voice. “I need you to make sure that no one visits my mom that you don’t know.”
“Pardon?”
“I need you to just make sure that no one gets in to visit her. Except Irene, of course. Actually, maybe not even Irene. It’s... Sunshine Enterprises is—it’s a company that’s harassing me and Hailey. Really a lot. Threatening us. Is anyone in the office there today I can talk to about this?”
“No, Mack, it’s a skeleton staff on Christmas. No one’s—”
“Okay, I’ll call back tomorrow.” Hailey appeared in front of him in the dining room doorway, face ashen. “But can you tell the front desk today?”
“Yeah, of course. No visitors. You hear that, Leonora? No parties for a while!”
“Tilda, this is really important—”
