Cozy Cabin Getaway Ch02

The Jameson Household

“Where is your sister?”

The kitchen smells like fresh biscuits and chowder. The pot bubbles on the stove.

“Huh?” Kayla doesn’t even look up from her phone. An open can of Monster rests by her elbow on the kitchen table. The Jameson house is in a respectable, white-collar neighborhood in Gurlberg. It felt good with four residents. It was roomy with three. With only two people living there now, it feels big and empty.

“She’s late,” Mary says, jerking a knife out of the block on the counter.

Kayla hears the harsh, metallic noise of the blade coming free and looks up.

“Jesus,” she says as her mother brandishes it. She watches as Mary, rather violently, stabs a round loaf of bread and starts hacking. She’s just hollowing out a bread bowl, but still.

“Fuck, mom. You’re like fucking Ghostface right now.”

“Language.” Mary saws away irritably.

“I’m just saying. Maybe you should see a therapist.”

“I don’t need therapy.” Plates rattle as Mary puts the bread bowl down and grabs the next loaf, raising the knife.

“Dad left, they made you a partner at the firm, there’s all that shit with the bikers. Riley’s boning her coach,” Kayla says, and Mary twitches. “It’s a lot, Mom.”

Mary just hollows out another bread bowl.

“Or if you don’t want to talk to somebody, at least take a gummy.”

Mary pauses and turns to see Kayla holding up a plastic bag.

“What the hell is that?” Mary demands, pointing the knife.

“What’s it look like?”

“You can’t have those!” Mary snatches the bag away.

“Hey!”

“It’s illegal.” Mary stares at the gummies as though she’s never seen them before.

Kayla’s mouth drops open. “So?”

“So, you can’t have this.” Mary stuffs the baggy into the pocket of her apron.

“Oh my God. They’re just fives,” Kayla says.

“You’re breaking the law!”

“Oh my God. I’m eighteen.”

“This is Florida!”

“Don’t fucking remind me! Do we need to shout?”

Mary takes a deep breath. “No. We don’t. Go put a bra on.”

Kayla balks and looks down at herself. “For Riley?”

Mary shakes the knife at her. “Too much boobs.”

“Yours are bigger than mine. You put a bra on.”

“It’s not my fault we have these genes. It’s why God gave us bras. Now be civilized.”

“Riley doesn’t have them. It’s not my fault either,” Kayla protests.

“But it is your fault that you’re dressed like a stripper. Put a bra on and call your sister. Make sure she’s OK.”

Kayla puts her face in her hands. “Can I have my gummies back?”

“No.”

The sound of the front door opening is instantly recognizable. Riley breezes into the kitchen. Her hair is damp and she smells like… what is that? Sandalwood?

Kayla snorts.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Riley replies. “Hi, Mom.”

Mary peers at her for a moment, taking in the state of her at six PM. Late. Freshly-showered and smelling suspiciously good. Mary’s nostrils flare, but she controls herself.

“Sit,” she says stiffly.