The Teacher by Meg Gray

shoulder—Brayden was still asleep.
    Out in the hallway Marcus moved toward
the large sweeping staircase of his parents’ new colonial home, at least Marcus
thought of it as new. Margaret and Alfred sold their old Lake Sammamish home
and moved to Mercer Island around the same time he and Brayden left for
Portland.
    After the tragedy with Vanessa, the
disintegration of his mother’s business and partnership, she proclaimed it was
time for a change and snatched up this estate when it came on the market. The
house was twice as large as their previous home. A master suite graced each of
the three floors and there were two extra bedrooms on the top floor along with
a bonus room. The ceiling was high in the center of the house and a formal
living room, study, library and dining room opened up through French doors off the
center of the home. Marcus wondered what his parents did with all the rooms and
three acres of land when it was just the two of them.
    A small cottage sat on the east side of
the grounds where the housekeeper Maricella and her husband, Guillermo, the
gardener and driver lived. The couple worked for the previous owners and stayed
on after the sale of the property. He knew his mother liked the status “live-in
help” created for their family.
    The crystal chandelier was still ablaze,
lighting the entire grand entryway. He assumed his parents were still awake and
stepped delicately on the golden wood floors. With any luck he would get the
gifts under the Christmas tree and make it back upstairs undetected.
    Marcus heard voices coming from his
father’s study as he slipped into the living room. Without turning the lights on,
he arranged the packages under the designer Christmas tree. It was covered in
frosted glass ball ornaments, white lights and six-inch white glass butterflies
clipped to the branches. Kneeling beneath the branches, he began to arrange the
unmarked gifts from Santa, the sweet scent of the pine needles filled his
senses as he worked.
    The lights blinked to life above him and
Marcus turned to see his mother, her bony fingers wrapped around a small glass
of sherry. Under her arm, she carried a present wrapped in red paper with a
white bow. She walked toward him with her black and gold silk caftan flowing
behind her and held out the gift. 
    “Maricella said this was delivered while
we were at church tonight. Do what you want with it?” she said as she released
the gift into his hands and turned to leave. Marcus didn’t need to look at the
card to know who it was from.
    His mother paused in the doorway placing
one hand on the white paneled trim. “Join your father and me in his study when
you’re finished here,” she commanded over her shoulder before she left. He
removed the card from the package and set it next to the other unmarked gifts
for Brayden. Stuffing the card into his pocket, he switched the light off in
the room and crossed over to his father’s study.
    At the table under the portrait of his
mother, painted twenty years ago, Marcus picked up a bottle of scotch and
poured himself a drink. His father leaned back in his leather desk chair,
steepling his hands in front of him and tapping his forefingers together with
impatience. Marcus took a seat in the empty wingback chair and waited for
whatever his parents felt they needed to discuss with him.
    “We need to talk about your Christmas
gift,” his father began. The wrinkles bracketing the corners of his mouth
deepened with his frown.
    “I don’t need a gift,” Marcus said.
    “It’s not a question of what you need,”
Margaret cut in. “It’s about what we would like to give you. That’s why it’s
called a gift, darling.” She added with a smile.
    Marcus nodded, never one to argue with
his mother.
    Alfred leaned over his desk, “We,” he
glanced at Margaret who nodded. “Want to take care of Brayden’s tuition for the
remainder of the school year.”
    “There’s no…” Marcus started, but his
father’s raised