Page 27 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

“Stop! I can’t listen to you talk about those fucking spoons any longer. The real difference here, Alvarez, is that you didn’t care about the spoons. You have excelled in literally everything you have ever cared about, and this won’t be any different. So stop your bitching, go in there, do whatever it is you do for rich pricks, and make that boy fall back in love with you. Do I make myself clear?”

Jesse white knuckled the steering wheel even tighter. He knew exactly what he was signing up for when he called Michelle, but maybe he should have called Sean for a gentler approach to his panic. “Okay, you’re right. I can do this. Sure. I’ll be fine.”

She roughly exhaled. “Where exactly are you, and what are you wearing?”

The laugh that bubbled out of Jesse’s mouth was unhinged and completely unexpected. “Isn’t your girlfriend asleep in the other room? I don’t think you should be hitting on me right now.”

“Shut up and just tell me.”

“Uh, I’m almost there. And I’m wearing a button down and tie? Why?”

“Take off your tie and roll your sleeves up to the elbow when you get there. I’m told it’s hot when men do that.”

“I’m supposed to be a professional. I can’t show up all slutty with my elbows exposed. They said I had to address him as Lord.”

In the background, Jesse heard Tanvi ask who Michelle was talking to, and Jesse quietly smiled as Michelle’s voice shifted into something much softer when she answered her girlfriend.

“I have been kindly reminded to be nice to you, and also to tell you that Tanvi loves you. Now that that’s out of the way, absolutely do not call him that. It’s weird and antiquated. Just be yourself. It’s going to be fine.”

Jesse could see the turn onto the gravel drive leading to the estate up ahead, and he did his best to absorb Michelle’s advice even as his palms began to sweat. He rapidly wiped them against the tops of his pants.

“I’m here. Thank you for the pep talk, and I’ll send a message in the group chat later with an update. Love you both.”

“Go get him, lover boy.”

The call disconnected as Jesse made the final turn, and Chapman House came into view.

He stopped the car on the outer edge of the roundabout in front of the house, going over exactly what he wanted to say to Oliver. He hastily followed Michelle’s instructions, undoing his tie and rolling his sleeves. He felt ridiculous, nervous, self-conscious. He felt fifteen.

Jesse took one final look in the rearview mirror, brushing a piece of hair from his face. He checked his teeth and grabbed his backpack from the passenger side seat. He could do this.

The house was just as regal as he had remembered. Time had a way of making old homes more captivating. They beautifully aged and withered—their own version of fine lines and wrinkles. Chapman House loomed overhead, and Jesse was so small in its shadow.

Taking his time, Jesse climbed the short set of stairs to the front door. His heart was pounding like he had just finished a race, like this had the potential to be one of those big moments in life. The ones you look back on in ten or twenty years and say, That’s where it all started. Right there is where my life really began.

He knocked on the door and waited, shifting from foot to foot.

The door creaked open, and Jesse’s hopes plummeted to the ground.

“Oh hello! Welcome to Chapman House. Or welcome back, rather. So good to see you, Jesse.”

Jesse recognized Róisín McNamara instantly, both from sight and voice. She was short, her blonde, springy curls the same as they were ten years ago, only now with a few grey strands.

They had spoken on the phone earlier in the week to coordinate his stay at the house. The village bed and breakfast was undergoing renovations, and there were limited rooms available. When she had offered him one of the guest rooms, he had immediately said yes, but now it was just another thing he worried about. He hadn’t actually spoken to Oliver, but he assumed he must have been fine with the arrangement.

Jesse plastered on his best customer service smile, trying to hide his disappointment that Oliver hadn’t been the one to answer the door. “Hi, Mrs. McNamara, thank you. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“None of that, love. Please, call me Rose. Let me show you to the library. Are your bags in the car?”

It suddenly dawned on Jesse that he’d never actually walked through the front door of the house before. His interactions with Oliver nearly always took place outside. The one time they came indoors, it was through a back door that led to the kitchen.

For the first time, he was seeing the entryway. The grey and white harlequin marble lined floors, the Greek-style columns that matched the home’s exterior. The wooden Victorian wall paneling was stained a rich brown which made the manor home inviting and warm—a contrast to others which had the tendency to be stony and lifeless.

Nearly every wall was papered and covered in gilded framed pictures of all shapes and sizes. Some were portraits, a tiny placard at the bottom of each frame revealing a name and date, while others were of landscapes or classic English aristocratic scenes like fox hunts and horse racing.

One painting in particular caught his attention, a clear departure from the others; it was vivid and colorful, a serene lake surrounded by willows with overarching branches that dipped and floated on the surface of the water. He took a step closer to get a better look, but was interrupted when a throat cleared to his right.

“They sent you?”