“Great-Aunt Margaret was the ringleader on that.Dad loves what he does.He says no patients or parents are as desperate or as grateful as the ones he works with in pediatric neurology.And the family has Uncle John as a healer.It’s fine.”She glanced at me again.“But I’ve felt that hostility too.So has Frank.”
I took a sip of the tea.“So I’m rearranging furniture, Mom.This is a new Corey Council.We are the Three, equal in our footing in this triad.We’re not playing power games.Right?”
Mom nodded decisively.“Correct.”She picked up an embossed leather notebook from the coffee table and opened it.“We have some family business, some requests for help and advice, to deal with first.”
At the gallery, Faith often deferred to her older brother.She was soft-spoken but observant.As our discussion went, she opened up, and we saw more of the real Faith.Her insights were proving to be invaluable.Most family members knew to straighten up and behave when Mom was around.Faith, though, flew under the radar and she therefore knew things neither Mom nor I did.
“I think the real question is what we do with the Queen Anne in Pacific Grove,” Mom said.The grand yellow house was across the street from the ocean.It had been in the family for at least a hundred years before it eventually went to Mom and me.It had been way too big for the two of us, but I’d liked my turret room with the view of the back garden.
I turned to Faith.“Do you think your family would like to move in?”
She shook her head.“No way.Mom has her greenhouses in the back of ours and Dad said that house gave him the creeps.”Her eyes went wide when she realized what she’d said.“Sorry, Aunt Sybil.It wasn’t?—”
Mom grinned and waved away the explanation.“Your father is right.It is a creepy house.It’s a showpiece, but it has a dark heart.”She glanced around the living room with the huge windows out to the patio and cliff over the ocean.“This one is better.It still has darkness, which might be residual from the dark spells Calliope and her demon used to try to get at your Gran or… Well, regardless, I want to do a cleansing today, if we can.”
Faith and I nodded.
“Good,” Mom responded.“As for the yellow house, Great-Aunt Margaret wants it for herself and her children.I’m not sure which ones.She contends that since Gran and Martha are gone now, the house should go to her.”
“Maybe Bracken wants it,” I suggested.
Mom glanced up and gave me a look.
“Okay.No, he doesn’t.He didn’t have a happy childhood in that house.From what he’s mentioned, it sounded like Great-Great-Gran was even worse than Great-Gran and they all lived in that house together.”I tapped the chair’s arm.“Did I ever tell you that Bracken had my bedroom before me?”
Mom shook her head.“I didn’t know that, though I suppose it makes sense.Your great-great grandmother and grandfather had the first-floor suite.Marion and Charles—your great-grandparents—had the large bedroom at the end of the second floor, with Mary, Margaret, and Martha taking the rest of the rooms.I hadn’t considered where they’d put Bracken.”
Mom tapped her pen against the open page of her notebook.“It was probably for the best, considering how my Great-Gran and Gran treated him.Well, anyway, Aunt Margaret wants the house.”
“No,” I said.
I saw Faith shake her head out of the corner of my eye.
Mom looked between us and said, “We’ll table that for now.”
“If Margaret tries to give you a hard time, you let her know why you’re the head of the family and not her.Age doesn’t mean anything.It’s power.That’s the Corey way.Does Margaret have powerful children or grandchildren?”I asked.What I remembered from family get-togethers was that her side of the family was even shittier than my own.
Mom’s head tipped to the side, considering.“Her daughter Joan is probably the most powerful of that line.”
“Derek,” Faith added.“Aunt Joan’s son Derek is pretty powerful.He can influence people.”
I watched her a moment.She looked quite uncomfortable.“Did he do something to you?”
She shook her head.“Not me.”
“Frank, then?”I guessed.
“Wait a minute.”She took out her phone and texted, receiving a response right away.She texted again and waited for a reply once more.When it came, she pocketed her phone and said, “Yes.Derek and Frank are in the same grade.Derek pretends to be a nice guy around adults, but he’s a secret bully.Frank stopped him from harassing this asthmatic kid who was wheezing, running the mile in middle school PE.Derek and his friends were running behind the kid, breathing heavy and mocking him.Frank said the kid was really having a hard time breathing and looked like he was going to cry.
“Frank shoved Derek out of the way and walked the kid to the teacher.I guess it was a substitute that day who didn’t know this kid wasn’t supposed to be running and the kid was too embarrassed to make a big deal about it.Anyway, Frank ended up having to run extra laps.The sub saw Frank shove Derek, but he didn’t notice what Derek was doing, which Frank thinks was because Derek spelled the teacher.He said the way they were running right up on top of the kid made it obvious, but Derek walked away free and Frank had to run extra laps.
“The thing is, though, Frank wrecking Derek’s fun pissed him off, so he went out of his way to spell others around Frank.Not Frank directly.Corey Curse and all that.”Faith looked between Mom and me, no doubt taking in our disgusted expressions.
The Corey Curse was created hundreds of years ago to discourage us from killing each other as we schemed and clawed our way to the top.Seriously, we’re a family of assholes and always have been.
Faith continued, “Like, Frank tried out for basketball when they got to high school, but at the tryout, this other big kid tripped on nothing, slamming hard into Frank.They both hit the floor and Frank broke his elbow.”She glanced at me.“You know how smart Frank is.Somehow, though, whenever he shares a class with Derek, Frank gets low grades on his tests and essays.It’s always the same.Frank takes the paper up to the teacher after class.The teacher looks over his work and apologizes, not understanding how she could have made such a mistake.”
My fingers drummed on the arm of the chair.“This is that little shit with blond hair like his dad’s, right?”I tapped my cheek.“A dimple?”
