When I returned (safely, to everyone's disappointment), Caleb was on the patio steps. He grabs me by the upper arm, steering me inside. I think he's pissed that I was going to Batman's (even if I didn't stay) and instead he says we have a Christmas visitor and I am to play dumb and stay out of reach. It's a hiss and a serious warning and he isn't fucking around and I am steered all the way down the hall through the house to the front hall.
In the front hall are three men I recognize, going back years and two I don't recognize at all. Bodyguards. I ask them to wait outside. I won't have guns in my home. They head outside, as apparently it is a quick visit just to leave some gifts, as it's been a long year once again and they are always thinking of our/my wellbeing. There are two cases in the front hall and an envelope on top of one. I am instructed to enjoy the gifts with my friends before the old man asks if I need anything.
Actually I do. Caleb has stopped trying to talk over me finally and watches. He isn't worried but he's plenty worried, and his body language has him standing a quarter-width in front of me, just in case.
Anything for you. Name it.
If Caleb calls you, please don't pick up.
And he laughs, a loud ringing belly laugh and comes forward to kiss both my cheeks. Caleb doesn't even budge and it's a bit of a shuffle. And with that he is waving goodbye over his shoulder, collecting his sons and rendezvousing with his bodyguards who stood on the porch waiting.
One case is vodka. The other is vintage art tools and new supplies from Saint Petersburg, things I've been coveting for some time but only knew one way to get and I wasn't going to choose that way. Apparently it chose me. I did send them off with a family Christmas card, because we keep a ready stack just in case, as there are always producers or managers swinging by to drop off a gift or a card and we learned quickly.
Send it all back to the Motherland, Lochlan says when he sees the cases.
If you're smart that's the last thing you want to do, Caleb reminds him. As long as we only see them once a year and they seem content to spoil Bridget, then we can manage.
Do you even hear yourself? You've made her the focus. When has that EVER served to be a good idea?
Lochlan, take a breath, please. It's over. Everything is fine.
Maybe for you. I want no part of this. And she won't be at the next meeting.
There are no more meetings.
Gift exchanges. WHATEVER, DIABHAL. NO MORE.