Crimson Hollow

Chapter Four

“Is she one of us?”

What did that even mean? One of what?

I stared at her, completely lost. I glanced at Mum, searching her face for an explanation, but her jaw was set as she deliberately avoided my eyes.

Was I overthinking this? What if she just meant family? What else could she possibly mean?

Family made sense. Of course I’m one of them, I answered silently in my head.

The older woman, who I now knew was my grandmother realized she wasn’t going to get a single answer out of Mum anytime soon and turned her sharp gaze back to me.

“You must be hungry, my granddaughter.” I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question, but my stomach answered for me with an excruciatingly loud, embarrassing growl. I hated being human sometimes. I groaned inwardly, flushing bright red.

Mum sighed, looking over at me.

“I guess we’re done here for now. Let’s go get you some food.”

“Come,”

the older woman said, extending a manicured hand and holding mine briefly before leading us down the grand corridor into the dining hall.

“Your mother gave me virtually no warning that you were coming, so dinner isn’t quite what I would have prepared.” Mum scoffed quietly.

“You knew we were coming.”

“I knew you were coming,” Grandma corrected, her tone icy as she took her place at the head of a long, polished table.

“By the way, you can call me Grandma.” She directed a polite smile at me.

Grandma. That was about right since she was Mum’s mum. The irony of that thought almost made me laugh, so Mum had a mother too? She had always looked so strong and independent to me; imagining her as someone’s daughter was just weird and this was my first time meeting any of my grandparents for that matter.

Mum sat down beside the older woman-Grandma, I mean, and I chose the seat directly across from Mum. I stared at the dining setup, a sudden spike of anxiety hitting me. The table was set with heavy gold cutlery and stacked with enough dishes to feed a small army.

She wasn’t prepared? I’d hate to see what a planned meal looked like.

I picked up a napkin, feeling completely out of my depth. I wasn't used to this level of wealth. Mum didn't look half as surprised; she was clearly accustomed to this.

It all started clicking into place. Back home, Mum worked as a librarian. It was probably where my love for reading began, spending hours roaming through quiet aisles while she worked. I’d never known exactly how much she made, but her collection of expensive wines and high end designer purses, which she almost never wore, had always seemed out of place. Now it made sense.

A young woman who looked about my age stepped quietly into the dining room. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight, neat bun, and she wore a dark, formal uniform. Holding a chilled bottle of champagne, she poured it into our glass flutes without uttering a single word or raising her eyes from the floor.

As soon as she finished, she vanished back into the kitchen.

I stared at the empty doorway. Just how many people worked here?

“Normally, I prefer wine,” Grandma said, lifting her flute, “but today calls for a small celebration.” She leveled a cool look at Mum.

“My lovely daughter has finally returned after years of me begging.”

Mum rolled her eyes, ignoring the jab completely. “Where are Aiden and Mark?” she asked, gesturing for me to start loading my plate.

“Away on business.”

Grandma didn't elaborate, but Mum seemed to understand instantly.

Who were Aiden and Mark?

“Your uncles,” Grandma added smoothly, catching my confused look.

”Oh.” I offered a polite, strained smile. Uncles? Why was I finding out about my own family tree one person at a time?

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence. Grandma asked a few measured questions, what I studied, what I liked to read, and whether I was involved in extracurriculars. When I mentioned the book club, her eyebrow rose in interest.

“You run a book club?”

“I’m the head of it,” I said with a small smile.

“Head?”

“It’s not as impressive as it sounds.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

A laugh escaped my lips before I could stop myself. Mum glared at me, clearly unamused, while Grandma took a slow sip of her champagne.

“And what do you read?” Grandma pressed.

“Mostly romance. And sometimes mystery.”

“Hmm. More like your dad, then.” She wiped the corner of her lips delicately with a silk napkin.

“Mum,” my mother warned, her voice dropping dangerous low.

The temperature in the room plummeted, and neither of them attempted to speak for the rest of the meal.

After dinner, Grandma led me up a grand winding staircase to the third floor.

“This will be your room.” She pushed open a heavy mahogany door.

I stepped over the threshold and froze. “Oh...”

It was breathtaking.

The room was twice the size of my old one, anchored by a massive king sized bed with dark wooden post framing. A plush vanity sat near a bay window, and a grand wardrobe lined the far wall. Everything radiated understated luxury. Even the floor to ceiling drapes looked like they cost more than my entire wardrobe.

I walked over to the bed, running my fingers over the unbelievably soft duvet.

“You can change anything you don’t like,”

Grandma said from the doorway.

I looked back at her. “Really?”

“Of course. You only need to let me know.”

“Thank you... it’s beautiful.”

She nodded softly. “I thought you might like it.”

I turned to take in the vast space again. It was beautiful it just didn't feel like mine. My old room was smaller, chaotic, crammed with stacked books and a canopy bed that took up way too much space. But it had felt like home.

A sudden pang of homesickness hit me hard.

Grandma’s eyes softened slightly, as if reading the shift in my posture.

“It’s just a room, Fawn. You’ll make it yours eventually.”

I blinked. That was the second time she had answered a thought I hadn't spoken aloud. Could she read minds or something?

I quickly shook the absurd thought away. “Thank you,” I managed.

“Get some rest. Your mother will drive you to your new school tomorrow.”

I groaned softly. “Already?”

“Already.” She stepped out into the hallway and reached for the doorknob, then paused.

“Oh, and Fawn?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t wander around the house at night.”

I let out a breathless chuckle.

“Why?”

Her expression remained completely neutral.

“Because you don’t know this house yet.” Her voice was low and certain.

Before I could ask what that was supposed to mean, she pulled the door shut, leaving me standing alone in the room.