CHAPTER 11
Christmas Eve arrived, and Caroline drove Victor to her mother’s home in the suburbs.
The exterior of the white two-story glittered with white lights that lined the eaves with ruler straightness and perfectly placed nets of the same stark color on the two evergreen bushes flanking the front door. Leave it to Mom to make even Christmas lights look sterile and unwelcoming.
Caroline clung to Victor’s hand as they approached the black front door and knocked.
An attractive, middle-aged woman with carefully highlighted blond hair and a sour expression met them. “Caroline.”
“Mother. Merry Christmas.”
Cheryl didn’t return the greeting. “Is this him then?” she asked, eyeing Victor, and her voice held no inflection whatsoever.
“Yes,” Caroline agreed, trying to sound normal even as
