Under His Eye: Falling for Stepdaddy

Very Festive

My flight got delayed by more than an hour because of the icy weather, so I clapped along with all the other passengers when the captain brought us in for a safe landing.

Despite the late hour, my uncle Bill was waiting for me at the gate with a big smile on his face. After swallowing me up in one of his classic bear hugs, he drove me home.

I invited him to come in and have a cup of hot chocolate, but he said other errands to run, so it was up to me to lug my suitcase up the steps.

I'd only been off to college for a few months, so I was surprised by the wave of nostalgia that hit me when I saw all the Christmas decorations, including the big wreath on the front door.

In some ways, it felt like I'd been gone for years, and that thought alone nearly caused me to start crying, which I thought was silly. But I guess that's how it is, sometimes, when you realize that you're growing up and leaving a part of your childhood behind.

I used my key to let myself in and then I spent a good minute brushing the snow off my jacket and removing my boots. After getting used to that Florida sunshine, the cold weather had hit me like a hammer even though I was wearing my thickest sweater, a handmade gift from my mom that had a goofy looking reindeer on the front, its antlers decked out with ornaments like a Christmas tree.

I was just about to call out and let my mother know I had arrived when I heard the sound of people talking coming from the living room. Curious, I slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers and made my way over.

The first thing I saw was that the fireplace was going, an unusual but welcome sight on a winter's day like that. But what really bowled me over was seeing my mother wearing a very elegant dress.

"Ally, you're here!" said my mother, coming over to greet me. That's when I saw who she had been talking to, a man I instantly recognized - Malcolm Kent!

"Yeah, um, sorry. My flight got in late because of the weather," I said, feeling a strange warmth rise to my face as I gazed over at him.

He was standing by the fire, holding a glass in one hand, looking perfectly at ease as though he belonged there. Malcolm was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit, his hair and everything else immaculate.

"Darling, this is Malcolm. Malcolm, my daughter Allison," said my mother.

"Um, hey," I said, shocked by how nervous I felt. Why should I be the one feeling any anxiety when he was in my house?

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Allison," said Malcolm, taking my outstretched hand and lifting it to his lips. Even though the touch was brief, it sent a shiver racing down my spine. "Your mother has told me so much about you."

"Oh?" I said, absent-mindedly twisting a lock of my hair around one finger. "All good, I hope."

"Of course!" said Malcolm with a chuckle, the deep sonorous tone of his voice echoing inside of me in a way that I couldn't explain.

"Ally just finished her first semester at Crestwood University," said my mother. "She's pursuing a business degree."

"A bold choice," said Malcolm with a twinkle in his eye. "So you're an entrepreneur?"

"No, um, not yet, not quite," I stammered, chiding myself for blushing like a schoolgirl. Something about the steely intensity of his gaze was somehow putting a spell on me.

"Colorful reindeer," said Malcolm, his eyes dipping down to the front of my sweater. "Very festive."

"What? Oh yeah," I said, looking down at my chest.

All of a sudden, it went from a cherished gift to an embarrassment. The two of them were dressed so formally and there I was, looking like a discount mall employee or something. "My, uh, mom made it for me."

"Yes, I've seen how talented Emma can be with her hands," said Malcolm, shooting my mom a lascivious wink that made my heart race.

For all her talk of "gentleman callers," it was clear that their relationship had progressed quite quickly, and I just didn't know what to think of that.

"You're just in time for dinner, darling," said my mother. "Why don't you take a moment to freshen up and then join us in the darling room?"

"Oh yeah, sure," I said, forcing myself to wrest my gaze away from Malcolm as he stood there calmly, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

It was only when I was a few paces down the hallway that I realized just how warm and flustered I had become. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face until I finally calmed down.

What was it about Malcolm that was having such a strong effect on me? Was it just because he was dating my mother after she'd been single for so long? Or was it because Malcolm was such a strong masculine presence, something I'd had so little experience with in recent years?

Either way, I considered dashing off to my old bedroom to change into something nicer, but then I decided that it would be more embarrassing to have to explain why I'd ditched my reindeer sweater after they'd both seen me wearing it.

Realizing I was stuck with it, I put on a brave face and then marched into the dining room, determined to be calm and collected on the outside even if I was feeling like a wreck inside.

Malcolm was sitting alone at the table, my mother in the kitchen, and he watched me impassively as I pulled out a chair and sat down.

When I looked around, I saw that all of the plates and silverware were unfamiliar, my mom's old floral pattern set replaced by elegant looking china rimmed with gold filigree that shimmered in the light of the candle in the center of the table.

A moment later, my mom bustled through the door, bearing a tray of food. As she began laying out a veritable feast, I couldn't help but notice that the glassware was new as well, including a water tumbler and a wine glass that looked almost paper thin.

Even the napkin on the side of my plate was made out of some fine brocaded material, and when I unfolded it and laid it across my lap, it almost felt like it was genuine silk.

"Here we are," said my mother as she arranged a few side dishes into position before taking her seat.

"Wow, looks great, Mom!" I said, my stomach rumbling.

After months of surviving on ramen noodles and cafeteria food, the spread before me looked irresistibly appetizing.

I was about to dig in when Malcolm cleared his throat, and then my mother smiled and said, "Let us say grace, shall we?"

Feeling like a complete fool, I set down my fork and bowed my head. With just me and my mom on our own for so many years, we'd never been the type to say grace, although we'd done it occasionally when a visitor would come over. Once again, I'd completely embarrassed myself in front of Malcolm.

"Amen," I muttered once my mother concluded her prayer, and this time I waited until the two of them began eating before going to town on the caramelized roast potatoes, one of my favorite dishes.

Trying not to look like the starving refugee I kind of was, I listened as my mother and Malcolm discussed their trip to New York City. Apparently, that's where she got all the plates and glassware that we were using.

According to Malcolm, he'd taken her to a department store on Fifth Avenue where she'd "fallen in love" with the setup they had on display, so he'd purchased the whole lot and had it shipped here to the house.

Everything was going fine until my mother stood up and went to the kitchen to bring in dessert. My belly was full, and I felt a lot more relaxed after having gotten a bit more accustomed to the idea that my mother was now dating someone.

That is why I was completely unprepared for what happened next, which was Malcolm reaching under the table and casually resting his hand on my upper thigh.

Shocked, I looked over at him, expecting some kind of explanation, but he just stared at me. At first, I was outraged, but as his hand remained exactly where it was, I felt a strange tingling sensation begin to build somewhere deep inside of me.

I had no idea what was going on, but that single incident marked the beginning of my strange and tumultuous relationship with Malcolm Kent.