The Gift

         Sharon Finnamore was sixty-three years old. She was not married, but she was not alone. She was a very wealthy woman, a socialite. She often held parties in her luxurious manor, and the most prestigious names in the state were always on the guest list.
         Tonight, she was holding a memorial for her late husband. He had been dead for ten years. Sharon still mourned the loss of her love, her high school sweet heart. They had married when Sharon was only twenty years old.
         Jonathan Finnamore had been a life-long politician. Even when he was in college studying political science, he volunteered as an assistant to town councilmen and eventual in the governor’s office. He died of a heart attack during his re-election campaign. Doctors contributed it to stress from the ongoing divorce.
         Sharon was a woman who loved with all of her heart, and she didn’t take rejection very well. When Jonathan had told her she wanted a divorce, she had pleaded with him to reconsider, but he had already made up his mind. Eventually, she decided that if she couldn’t have him, she’d make his life a living hell. She did just that.
         Since the divorce was never finalized, and Jonathan had never gotten around to changing his will, Sharon received everything she had been entitled to as his wife.
         She had tried to understand why Jonathan had done what he had done. She couldn’t. Sharon had been on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication since she miscarried their third child in a car accident when she was in her late thirties. She had stopped taking them without consulting her doctor. Jonathan claimed that since she’d been off of her medication, she’d gone crazy. He claimed to not know her anymore. He said that he felt like she wasn’t the woman he’d married anymore. He had tried to get past it, but he couldn’t. He’d tried to convince her to talk to her doctor, but she wouldn’t. Finally he’d had enough.
         Sharon didn’t think she’d been any different. She thought that everything was normal between them. She still gave her everything to him, and she thought that should be enough. She had a sneaking suspicion that maybe he was cheating, but they both knew he couldn’t risk such a scandal, not with the polls so close. Then he had the heart attack and died, and in the end, Sharon still didn’t have him.
         Every year, the anniversary served as a reminder of the love she still had for Jonathan. Ten years later, she still missed him so. These thoughts raced through her head as she made her way to her mailbox to check for any last minute RSVPs. She caught herself staring off into the distance, thinking about her love and their two children, their grandchild whom he had never had the chance to meet.
         As she opened the gate, it almost crashed into her elusive next door neighbor, the young Tiffany Michaels, as she returned home from her morning jog. Both women jumped back, and a small yelp came from Sharon.
         “Oh, Mrs. Finnamore, I’m so sorry!” Tiffany said moving around the gate and putting a hand on Sharon’s shoulder.
         “No Dear,” Sharon said as she gasped for breath. “I should have looked before I opened the gate. I was just so lost in thought. Thinking about Jonathan as always. His memorial is tonight. I didn’t get your RSVP. Will you be there, Dear?”
         “Oh, I’m not sure Mrs. Finnamore. It seems inappropriate for me to be there tonight.”
         “Oh nonsense,” Sharon waved her hand as if waving off Tiffany’s comment. “Your father smuggled funds from Jonathan’s campaign, not you. You were just a child.”
         “You’re so kind,” Tiffany said with a smile. “It’s very considerate of you to invite me to all of your gatherings, and I’ve considered it an honor to be on your guest list.”
         “Yet you’ve never made an appearance.”
         “Well, as I said, I thought it inappropriate for me to be there.”
         Sharon smiled. “Well just know that if I thought the same, you wouldn’t be invited. I hope to see you tonight Ms. Michaels.”
         “I’ll think about it. I don’t think I really have any black dresses.”
         Sharon chuckled. “It’s a memorial, not a funeral Ms. Michaels. The funeral was ten years ago. That was for mourning, and this is for celebration. Celebration of his life, and celebration of the fact that we haven’t forgotten him.”
         “Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.”
         “That’s beautiful.”
         “It’s a quote from Emily Dickenson.”
         Sharon raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never been one for poetry.”
         Tiffany laughed. “I took a couple of poetry classes while I was in law school.”
         Sharon smiled. “You’re a very cultured young woman, Ms. Michaels. I would love for you to be there tonight. I’m sure it would mean a lot to Eliza. You two were so close when your father worked for Jonathan.”
         Tiffany smiled. “Of course. I’ll think about it. I think some of your friends like to believe that I’m  little bit like my father.
         Sharon smiled, unsure of how to respond. “Well, I’ll let you be on your way then, young lady.”
         Tiffany smiled, said her goodbyes, and jogged the short distance to her luxurious home, next door to Sharon’s far more luxurious home.


         Sharon’s son Rion and his beard, Jodi arrived before anyone else. Sharon disapproved of this relationship. Rion was a publicly in the closet homosexual, and so was Jodi. Rion had come out to his family in his twenties, and Sharon had advised him to keep it a family secret. She was trying to save the political career that she wanted for him, that he had no interest in pursuing. At the time, he had been heir to the family company, and with his father’s untimely demise, he became CEO. He was perfectly content with growing the business and making it far more successful than his father had ever dreamed.
         Although she didn’t approve of their make-believe relationship, Sharon greeted both of them gracefully. She hugged her son tightly and gave him a hard kiss on the cheek, leaving a red lip stain. She then turned to Jodi, and hugged her gently, as if afraid of her homosexuality.
         “You look lovely, Jodi,” Sharon said with a false smile on her on face.
      Jodi, in Sharon’s opinion, looked like a man, no matter how fashionable and feminine her gown was. She had a wide jaw and a short “dyke” haircut, as Sharon had so distastefully described it to her best friend, Congressman Leon Julius’s wife Tamara.
      The rest of her guests showed in considerably timely fashion, except for her daughter Eliza and her husband. When Preston finally arrived in the parlor, he explained to Sharon that Eliza was in the powder room cleaning chocolate off of Maxwell’s face.
      Maxwell was Sharon’s only grandchild, and for obvious reasons, she was very fond of the two year old toddler. She always looked forward to seeing him, and spoiled him every chance she got. He had two rooms for himself in her home – his bedroom complete with his very own bathroom, and his playroom filled with more toys than he could play with in a lifetime.
      Sharon graciously greeted her son-in-law and showed him to Krista, the maid who was handling the Champaign. She chatted and caught up with him until she saw her daughter enter the room, awkwardly leaning to one side holding Maxwell’s hand as he wildly looked for the first person to bother.
      There was something about Sharon’s stature that made people notice when she moved across a room. Sure enough, as she moved towards Eliza and Maxwell, almost every head followed. Smiles crossed the faces of those watching when they saw the child, his hair a curly brown mess on top of his head, looking around the room, possibly overwhelmed by all the strange people.
      Sharon put her hands on her knees and bent down, a warm look on her face.
      “Hello, Maxwell,” she said in her usual voice. She refused to talk to her grandson the way people talk to pets.
      Maxwell smiled widely at his grandmother. “Gamma,” he said extending his arms toward her. “Up, please.”
      At two years old, he hadn’t yet learned how to form full sentences, but his mother had made sure he learned his manners.
      “Of course,” Sharon said as she cupped her hands under his arm pits and lifted him onto her hip. She pulled his little body to her own in a hug. He wrapped his little arms around her neck and nuzzled her. “You’re such a special boy, aren’t you Maxwell?”
      “Gamma’s boy,” he said popping his head up and smiling at her.
      “That’s right. Grandma’s boy.”
      “Gamma, play!” He pointed toward the stairwell, indicating that he wanted to go to his play room.
         “Oh, darling,” Sharon said with a smile. “Grandma can’t go upstairs right now. All of these people are here for me and it would be rude of me to leave them.”
         “Gamma, play,” he repeated still pointing toward the stairwell.
         “Maybe later, my love.”
         She was about to put him down, but she noticed a distinct stench coming from him.
         “Someone needs a diaper change,” Eliza said, obviously smelling it, as well. “I can do it.” She held her arms out as a request for her mother to hand over her child.
         “Oh that’s nonsense,” Sharon said. “You get enough of being Mommy at home. I have no problems with taking responsibility from you while you enjoy some wine with your husband and old friends.
         Eliza smiled in appreciation. “Thank you, Mom.”
         “The wine is with Krista.”
         Sharon climbed the stairs with the squirming toddler, the ungodly stench following them.
         She gave Maxwell a toy to distract him from the diaper changing. She smiled and cooed at him while he turned the toy around in his hands before throwing it across the room.
         “Maxwell,” Sharon scolded. “It’s not okay to throw things.”
         He ignored her and instead turned his attention to the maid who had just walked in the room to dust. She was new, and Sharon didn’t know her name.
         Without a toy to keep him occupied, the child became restless and began to squirm. He pushed at Sharon’s hands, trying to escape. He became agitated and began to cry. Sharon heard a thud on the floor behind her. Both she and the maid turned their attention to the center of the room, but nothing seemed different.
         Nothing except for the toy that lay in the center of the floor. It had flipped itself over, but it remained in the same place Maxwell had thrown it. The maid stared at Sharon, confused.
         Sharon looked back at her grandson and scolded him for throwing his toy.
         “Ma’am,” the maid said, “I think that toy was already there when I walked in the room.”
         “It wasn’t,” Sharon said sharply. “Pick it up and bring it back to him, please.”
         Sharon tried to put the fresh diaper on her grandson, but he was getting more upset. He let out a piercing scream that shocked both women and angered Sharon.
         The door slammed shut, causing the maid to jump and drop the toy she had in her hand.
         “What was that?” she asked, bewildered.
         “This is an old drafty house,” Sharon explained. “Now bring that toy here!”
         The woman brought the toy to Sharon and hurried toward the door.
         Sharon gave Maxwell the toy, and he immediately calmed down. He once again began turning the toy around in his hand, long enough for Sharon to finish putting on his clean diaper, and clothe him.
         She let him keep the toy, and she picked him up and carried him down the stairs. As she approached thestudy, she could hear voices, and as she got closer, she recognized them as her children. She intended to take Maxwell into the room and join the conversation, until she heard what they were actually saying.
         “Jodi doesn’t want to live in the closet anymore,” Rion said, sounding tired. “Me either.”
         “What does Jodi have to do with anything?” Eliza questioned.
         “Well she’s been such a good friend,” Rion reasoned. “If she comes out, she knows her parents would cut off her inheritance. You can’t live off of an artist’s paycheck. At least not unless you’re famous.”
         “So you want to share some of the money you get from Mom with Jodi?”
         “I was hoping we could split the money in three.”
         “I can’t believe you’d suggest that. Jodi is not a part of the family. She doesn’t get any money from Mom. If you want to share your portion with her so she can come out to her parents, that’s on you. But I’m not losing any of my inheritance for her.”
         “Okay, fine,” Rion said, defeated. “I just thought I’d ask. I feel awful saying this, but I’ll be so glad to come out when Mom’s gone. It feels so awful living a lie. I don’t want to be a politician. I don’t understand why she can’t accept that.”
         “That does sound awful,” Eliza sounded almost astounded. “But it would be nice to have my son back. I would love to raise him the way I want to. I don’t want him to grow up spoiled. We did, and neither of us was taught the value of working for what we have. I want Max to be humble.”
         “I get it,” Rion said. “I wish Mom wasn’t so overbearing.”
         Eliza agreed and they stood in silence.
         Sharon fumed in her head for a moment.
         How dare they? She thought. After everything I’ve done for them, they’re still so ungrateful.
         She took a deep breath, catching her composure. She realized they’re conversation was over, and she entered the study with Maxwell resting his head on her shoulder.
         “All done!” she announced. “He’s as good as new.”
         Eliza smiled. She set her wine glass down and took her son out of her mother’s arms.
         “We heard a door slam,” Rion said. “Then the maid came running down the stairs. Is everything okay?”
         Sharon smiled. “She’s new. A clumsy fool. I’ll have to make sure to fire her before the night’s over.”
         Maxwell , who had been resting his head on his mother’s shoulder, let out a giant yawn.
         “Looks like someone’s tired,” Eliza said, kissing her son on the top of the head.
         “Well then, why don’t I get this thing going so we can eat dinner and he can sleep,” Sharon said, still smiling graciously at her children. “Follow me to the parlor, will you?”
         The Finnamore family entered the parlor where the guests were mingling and drinking wine. Every head turned toward the doorway as Sharon made her way into the room. Their eyes followed her across the room. She stood in front of a giant picture of her late husband, taken when he was still a young intern for the governor, the year he graduated college.
         “Can I have everyone’s attention please?” She already had their attention. “On behalf of myself, my children, and Jonathan’s family, I would like to thank you all for being here. It means a lot that so many people came to honor my husband, even ten years after his death. Jonathan was a good man, an ambitious politician. I enjoyed being his wife. It was through him that I met all of you. It was through him that I had two beautiful children, Eliza and Rion. Jonathan and I made such a beautiful family, and we watched them grow, and create their own beautiful family. He would have been so proud to walk Eliza down the aisle on her wedding day. He would have been so happy to hear that my son Rion, and his long-time girlfriend, Jodi, have gotten engaged.”
         Everyone turned to Rion and Jodi, who both looked extremely uncomfortable. They were congratulated by everyone in the room. Rion looked at his mother, disappointed and angry. She smiled back at him.
         “He would have been even happier to know that Rion plans to run for congress this coming election.”
         More congratulations were given to Rion and Jodi. Rion looked even more furious at his mother.
         “I’m so sorry,” Sharon said, commanding the attention back onto herself. “I think Rion had wanted to make those announcements himself. As his proud, loving, and giving mother, I couldn’t resist. Jonathan would be so happy to see his son following in his footsteps. We both tried to give our children the best lives they could ask for, and I was so scared that Rion would fail to show his appreciation for all that his father and I have done for him. We spent our young lives building a political empire. I’m so happy that Rion has finally agreed to be a politician.”
         Sharon continued her speech, speaking about her late husband, everything she had helped him achieve during his long reign as senator, and how upset she had been when he had asked for a divorce. She promised to continue to be his loving wife, even though he hadn’t wanted that in his last year of life.
         She tactfully finished her speech and invited her guests into the dining room for dinner. She headed toward the door and mixed in with the crowd of hungry people. Before she could leave the room, someone grabbed her arm hard and jerked her around.
         Rion stared angrily into her eyes. “I need to speak with you, please.”
         Sharon knew he’d be disappointed; in fact she had counted on it.
         Eliza walked by, giving her mother a look almost as angry as Rion’s. Maxwell picked his head up off of his mother’s shoulder and reached for his uncle.
         “No, sweetheart,” Eliza said soothingly. “Uncle Rion is busy at the moment.”
         Maxwell continued to reach for his uncle, and Eliza once again told him no.
         The tired child let out a scream so loud that it pierced through the air. The lights in the room flickered and the wall light behind Rion’s head exploded, causing panic.
         “It’s okay, everyone!” Sharon called. “Just an electrical issue. I’ve been having problems with the electricity. Please, just head to the dining room.”
         Eliza gave her mother a quizzical look as she handed her screaming, tired toddler to Rion. Sharon had a way of intimidating her daughter with one look. Eliza ducked her head and followed the rest of the guests.
         “Rion,” Sharon said. “Let’s talk after dinner.”
         “No,” Rion insisted. “We’ll talk now.”
         “It would be rude of me to leave my guests.”
         “And what you just did wasn’t?”
         Sharon sighed. “Let’s go upstairs where no one will hear and have a quick conversation.”
         They went into Rion’s old bedroom, now set up as a guest room.
         “What do you think you are doing?” Rion exploded the second they were out of earshot of everyone else.
         “Darling, I’m just helping you.” Sharon was calm, despite her son’s aggravation.
         “How do you figure that you’re helping at all?”
         “Sweetheart, you and Jodi have been ‘dating’ for so long, that people are going to get suspicious if you’re not married soon. You know how being homosexual would affect your popularity in the polls.”
         “Oh, Jesus. Mother, you know I have no desire to do any sort of politics. That has always been your dream for me, and I’ve always told you no. I was perfectly happy to amuse you by pretending to date Jodi at first, but I will not live this lie any longer. I’m tired of you thinking you can run my life. I’m thirty-one years old.”
         “I’m just doing what’s best for you, son.”
         “You don’t make the decisions as to what’s best for me anymore, Mother. I don’t want to be a politician, and I don’t continue lying to everyone. I’m going down there, and I’m going to tell everyone that Jodi and I are not getting married, that I’m not running for office, and that I’m gay.”
         “You will do no such thing!” Sharon’s voice was starting to shake. Maxwell squirmed in Rion’s arms and began to cry.
         “Give me that child,” Sharon demanded reaching for him. Rion did not protest. He handed Maxwell to Sharon and immediately headed for the door.
         “Rion,” Sharon said, her voice warning. “If you do what you plan to do, I will personally see to it that you are removed as CEO of your father’s company, and that you lose your inheritance.”
         Rion turned and looked his mother directly in the eyes. Without contemplation he said, “I don’t care. It’s worth it to me.”
         He turned and headed toward the door once more.
         “Rion wait,” Sharon called, her voice calmer. “Come back here. Let’s talk a little longer.”

         A few moments later, Sharon joined her guests in the dining room - alone. The first course had yet to be served.
         “I’m sorry I had to leave you momentarily,” she announced as she entered the room. “I had to take care of my son. The excitement from all the sudden attention due to my announcement earlier was too much for him, I’m afraid. He’s upstairs resting.”
         “And my son?” Eliza asked, almost a challenging tone to her voice.
         “He’s tuckered out, poor boy. I had one of the maids feed him a bottle and put him to down for a nap.”
         “A bottle?” Eliza was astounded. “Mother, he’s two.”
         “And one bottle will not kill the boy. He was very tired. Too tired to chew, even.”
         Sharon looked out over her guests as maids arrived with the first course.
         “Let’s enjoy dinner, shall we?”
         She sat down, and Eliza leaned toward her and whispered, “Did you use Max to hurt Rion?”
         Sharon looked at her daughter in shock. “Maxwell is upstairs, probably done with his bottle and sleeping by now.”
         “You didn’t answer my question.”
         The two women stared at each other for a moment before Eliza finally said, “You know better. Both of them better be okay.”
         Sharon smiled, but spent the rest of the night avoiding her angry daughter. Dinner went smoothly, and the guests returned to the parlor to pay their final respects to the memory of Jonathan Finnamore. Over the next two hours, the crowd of people dwindled, until finally it was just the Finnamore family and the maids.
         After the maids had finished cleaning, Sharon dismissed them. It was now only her, her children, their spouses, and her grandson in the house.
         “Well,” Sharon said. “I should go get Maxwell from his nap or he’ll be awake all night, wont he?”
         “I should go check on Rion,” Jodi said, standing from her seated position.
         “Oh, darling,” Sharon said condescendingly. “You don’t have to pretend to be his caring fiancé any longer. Everyone’s gone. I’ll check on him.”
         “No, I will,” Eliza said standing, challenging her mother. “I will go get my own son from his nap, and check on my brother while I’m upstairs anyway.”
         “Very well,” Sharon said, submissively.
         Eliza made her way up the giant staircase. Her brother’s bedroom was immediately to the left. She knocked and opened the door. He was lying in the bed, under the blankets. His eyes were closed, and he faced the ceiling. One hand was resting on his chest and the other hung from the side of the bed, just above his shoes which had been placed neatly on the floor at his bedside.
         She closed the door. She felt better knowing that her brother was okay. She entered the nursery and gently picked her son up from the crib. He woke and uttered a few cries. When he realized that he was in his mother’s arms, he smiled up at her.
         “Hey there, pal,” she smiled. “Do you want to walk down to Gamma?”
         He smiled and nodded as he rubbed his bunched up fists over his tired eyes. She put him on the floor and guided him toward the stairs and held his hand as she helped him, step-by-step. Half way down the stairs, she became aware of angry voices coming from the parlor.
         The voices of her mother and Jodi.
         She picked up Maxwell and carried him the rest of the way down the stairs. She entered the parlor and put her son down on the floor. Sharon and Jodi didn’t seem to notice them enter, but Preston seemed relieved to see her back.
         “What’s going on here?” Eliza demanded.
         Both women looked turned to her opening their mouths to speak.
         Jodi spoke first. “Your mother thinks she has the right to force me and Rion to marry by blackmailing both of us.”
         “Oh, I wouldn’t call it blackmail,” Sharon said with a wave of her hand. “I’m just looking out for the both of you. If you marry Rion, you wouldn’t have to live off of that awful artist’s salary.”
         Jodi’s face got even redder than it already was. She spoke to Eliza, “She’s threatened to have Rion removed as CEO of the company, and take his inheritance, which we had decided she’d probably do.”
         “Mom?” Eliza said, looking at her mother in disbelief.
         “I’m just trying to protect my son,” Sharon said calmly. “Coming out would be detrimental to his political career.”
         “He doesn’t want to be a politician, Sharon,” Jodi fired back. “How many times does he have to tell you that? You are so dense!”
         Eliza gasped. Even she wasn’t foolish enough to argue with her mother.
         The room went silent.
         “Now,” Jodi said, her voice shaking with anger, “She’s threatened to out me to my family if Rion comes out. That means I’ll lose my income from them.”
         Eliza was too afraid to speak. She looked at Jodi, then back to her mother. The only sound in the room was that of Jodi’s heavy breathing. She was furious.
         Max broke the silence, reaching up for his grandmother and crying to be picked up. Sharon sat and lifted him onto her lap.
         “All I want is for my son’s success,” Sharon said calmly. “You made yourself a part of this family, Jodi. You are the only one responsible for the consequences of that.”
         Jodi picked up her wine glass and took a sip. It was then that Eliza realized the flushing in Jodi’s face – and the fact that she was arguing with Sharon – was probably due to the alcohol.
         “Well, I think it’s high time that you learn that you can’t control everyone around you. Your children have their own minds and their own lives. You don’t get to decide how they live their lives.”
         Instead of responding, Sharon held Maxwell close to her, holding his head with one hand and stroking his hair with the other, as if protecting him.
         “You know what? It’s worth it for me as well. I’ll lose my income from my parents if it means that Rion, my good friend, can be happy. I’m going to get him and we’re leaving.”
         Sharon stooped her head and kissed Maxwell’s head.
         As Jodi bent to sit her wine glass down, it shattered in her hand, cutting her fingers, arm, and wrist. She cried out in pain.
         Eliza and Preston were quick to respond as blood spurted from Jodi’s hand onto the furniture. Preston took his sport coat off and wrapped Jodi’s hand in it.
         “Jesus, Jodi,” he said. “How hard were you squeezing that thing?”
         “Not hard at all,” Jodi responded, her breath quickening.
         “It must have been a weak glass,” Eliza reasoned. She helped Preston apply pressure to Jodi’s hand to stop the bleeding, but the blood had already soaked through.
         “You need to sit,” Eliza demanded. “You’re losing blood quickly.”
         Eliza looked at her mother, who sat in the same spot, her eyes closed, humming to Maxwell, still stroking his hair. She was eerily calm, Eliza thought.
         “We need a doctor,” Preston said. He reached into his pants pocket for his phone.
         Sharon kissed Maxwell’s head again, and Eliza became thoroughly annoyed at her mother’s lack of urgency.
         Preston screamed out in pain as he removed his hand from his pocket, and his phone fell to the floor, sending smoke into the air. Liquid poured out the cracked in his phone and burned into the rug. He held his hand up to reveal a chemical burn from the overheated, leaking, lithium battery in his phone.
         “Oh my goodness! Preston!” Eliza wanted to run to her husband and tend to him, but Jodi was losing blood and consciousness.
         “I’ll be okay,” Preston said. “Just take care of Jodi.”
         “Mom,” Eliza said. “Can you help us please?”
         Sharon didn’t respond. She still held Maxwell as if protecting him, still stroked his hair, still hummed.
         “Mom!” Eliza yelled to her mother.
         “I don’t feel well,” Jodi said weakly.
         Eliza squeezed her arm tighter, but Preston’s coat was already soaked. Jodi laid her head back and was gone. Eliza slapped her face, trying to bring her back to consciousness.
         “Jodi!” she screamed. She put her face by Jodi’s mouth. No breath. She felt the pulse in Jodi’s unwrapped arm. Faint pulse. She was as good as dead.
         Eliza didn’t know what to do. She looked at Jodi’s lifeless body before announcing that she was dead.
         “We should get you tended to,” Eliza said to Preston. “My phone is in my purse.”
         She gave her mother and angry stare as she stood. Her mother’s eyes were still closed, her arms still holding Maxwell against her, her hands still stroking his hair. The child’s eyes were wide open and watching the scene unfold before him. Sharon kissed his head once again.
         Eliza shook her head at her mother’s ignorance and moved toward her husband. The house began to shake.
         “An earthquake!” Eliza said.
         “That’s ridiculous,” Preston said, squeezing his arm to try to relieve some of the pain in his hand. “We don’t get earthquakes here.”
         As he finished his sentence, the chandelier fell from the high ceiling on top of Eliza. Immediately, the house stopped shaking.
         “Jesus!” Preston yelled as he jumped back. When he realized Eliza had been crushed, he moved toward the chandelier and quickly tried to pick it up, wounding his burnt hand even more.
         “Eliza!” He called.
         “I’m okay,” Eliza called weakly.
         “I’ll get you out of there,” Preston said, using his good hand to grab the chandelier. With Eliza’s help from underneath, he moved the light fixture.
         Eliza’s ankle was broken. Preston was overwhelmed. So many crazy things were happening, and he didn’t know what to do. He reached out his good hand to Eliza.
         “Let’s get you on the couch and get that ankle elevated.”
         He helped her up and sat her on the couch. It was hard to support her with only one good hand, but he was determined. He put her on the opposite end of the couch as Jodi’s dead body.
         When she was comfortably on the couch, he put a pillow under her ankle.
         “I’m going to wake Rion up. We’re gonna drive you to the emergency room. I don’t want you to have to wait for the ambulance to get here.”
         He headed toward the stairs and disappeared from their sight. Eliza glared at her mother across the room.
         “You need to stop this,” she said.
         Sharon said nothing. She hadn’t moved from her seat during the entire commotion. She hadn’t opened her eyes. She hadn’t stopped humming. She hadn’t let go of Maxwell. She now rocked with him in her lap, still stroking his hair.
         “Mother!” Eliza yelled, frustrated. “You need to stop! Give me my child!”
         She tried to stand, but just moving caused her swelled ankle too much pain.
         “Max,” Eliza said, trying to keep her voice calm as she talked to her son. “Come here. Come sit with Mama.”
         Sharon kissed the top of Maxwell’s forehead and continued to rock him and stroke his hair. He didn’t even attempt to go to his mother.
         “You need to stop this,” Eliza repeated. “I know what you’re up to. It needs to stop.”
         “You know,” Sharon spoke for the first time in minutes. “You children really are very unappreciative of everything that I do for you. I love with everything I have and I don’t take rejection very well.”
         “What are you talking about?”
         With her eyes still closed, and her body still rocking, Sharon answered, “I heard your conversation with Rion in the study earlier. Hoping I would die so you could get your money and be done with me.”
         “Jesus, that’s not what we meant.”
         “Neither one of you have ever appreciated me.”
         “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Eliza said sincerely. “No one else should have to pay that price, though. Why Jodi?”
         “I’ve kept her secret for so long. No thanks, ever.”
         “Don’t make my son pay for this.”
         “Maxwell will be fine.”
         “Don’t use him to hurt more people.” Tears welled in Eliza’s eyes. She was begging her mother.
         “Eliza!” Preston called from the stairs. “Rion’s not breathing! We need to get out of here!”
         “What did you do?” Eliza asked her mother, tears spilling over her eyes.
         Instead of responding, Sharon leaned over and kissed Maxwell’s head again.
         “Please don’t!” Eliza yelled. “You need to stop!”
         She heard Preston call out as he caught his foot on something and fell the rest of the way down the stairs.
         “Preston!” she called, shooting up from her laying position.
         No response.
         She looked to her mother, whose eyes were still closed. Painfully, she got herself on the floor and pulled herself to the entryway of the parlor. Preston lay at the bottom of the stairs, his body twisted in an awkward position.
         “Preston!” she yelled to him. No response. She saw no movement indicating that he was even breathing. She stared at his body for a moment, taking it in that he was probably dead, and she could do nothing to help him.
         She thought of her son. She needed to get him out of here. She needed to get him to safety. She turned around to look at her mother again, but was surprised by what she saw. Her mother no longer sat in her seat on the couch opposite of Jodi’s body. She stood directly behind her daughter, holding Maxwell in the same protective way, stroking his hair. Her eyes were open and glaring down at her daughter. Her mother was an intimidating woman, but she was especially so at that moment, as Eliza lay helpless on the floor with her mother looking down at her.
         “Please put Max down,” she pleaded. “Let us leave.”
         Sharon said nothing. She stroked Maxwell’s hair and kissed the top of his head. The house shook. Furniture fell over. Eliza watched helplessly as the grandfather clock just outside of the parlor lost its balance and toppled over onto her, causing her rib cage to cave in and puncture her internal organs.
         Sharon stared at her daughter’s body for a moment, then made her way to the back door. The sun was setting and the air was fresh and crisp. She sat on the top step of her back porch, taking in the orange-pink sky. Maxwell rested his head on her chest. Even though he had just woken up from a nap, he was exhausted. His brown curls blew with a wind that passed.
         Her eyes scanned her massive back yard. I could have him make a mass grave somewhere out here, she thought. No one would ever find the bodies. I’ll tell everyone they left my house after the event tonight and that was the last I saw of them.
         She looked down at her grandson. His eyes were wild and bewildered, his body weak and tired.
         What if I traumatized him? I never thought of that. Well that’s nonsense. He’s two. He’ll never remember this. Maybe I should wait a little while before I have him make the grave.
         Sharon thought she heard movement inside her house. Surely no one was still alive in there.

         Tiffany Michaels had watched all of the cars leave one by one from Sharon Finnamore’s house. She felt guilty not attending, but she didn’t think she could bear the condescending and judging looks of those in attendance who knew who her father was. Sometimes Tiffany wondered how the coincidence happened that she ended up in the house next door to the very people her father had smuggled money from as a young intern. The shame from all of the negative attention he received for his actions caused him to withdraw from politics and society. Tiffany rarely even spoke to him anymore.
         After all the cars were gone, she decided that she should at least go pay her respects, even if she had never known Jonathan Finnamore. She had been invited, and she didn’t want to offend Sharon by not making some sort of appearance.
         She made her way to Sharon’s front door. Two cars were in the driveway. Sharon’s would be in the garage. She figured they belonged to Rion and Eliza. She hadn’t seen Eliza in a long time. The two use to be good friends as children, but had grown distant.
         She knocked on the door and waited a moment. No answer. She knocked again and waited. Still no answer. She opened the door and peeked her head inside.
         “Sharon? Is everything okay?”
         She got no response.
         She stepped inside. “Sharon? Eliza?”
         She walked into the entryway and called out again, still receiving no response. She moved into the foyer and saw Eliza’s body under the grandfather clock, and a male body lying at the bottom of the stairs.
         “Oh my God!” she cried. She ran over to Eliza and picked up her arm, feeling no pulse in her wrist. She saw a woman sitting lifeless on the couch in the parlor, covered in blood with a man’s sports coat around her arm. She ran to the woman and checked her unwrapped arm for a pulse, but found nothing. She looked at the sports coat and realized that it was soaked. She must have bled out.
         She backed away from the woman’s body. She called out to Sharon again, but didn’t get an answer. She feared Sharon was dead as well. She hadn’t brought her phone with her. She couldn’t call the police. She saw one sitting on the floor. She almost grabbed it until she realized that battery had leaked and burned through the rug.
         She didn’t know where to look next. She decided to check if the man at the bottom of the stairs was alive. Maybe it was Rion.
         She entered the foyer and saw Sharon standing with a child over the man’s body. Sharon stared directly at her.
         “They’re dead,” Tiffany burst into tears. “They have no pulse. We have to call an ambulance.”
         “That’s not necessary.” Tiffany was too distraught to notice how cold Sharon seemed.
         “You already called one?”
         “No. I mean we don’t need one.”
         “Sharon, they’re dead.”
         “Yes, I know.”
         Tiffany sputtered in confusion before coming to a sickening conclusion.
         “You did this,” she accused.
         “No. I did nothing. Maxwell did.” Sharon held the child close to her body. He seemed so sleepy.
         “This child?” Tiffany asked. “Do you really expect me to believe that a little boy killed all these people?”
         “Maxwell is a special boy,” Sharon answered. “Just like his mother before him.”
         “What are you talking about?”
         Sharon sighed. “Maxwell possesses certain… shall we call them powers?”
         Tiffany’s brow furrowed. She concluded that Sharon had gone completely crazy and that she had to get the child and herself out of the house.
         Sharon continued, “Maxwell can make things happen with his mind.”
         “Are you talking about telekinesis?”
         “Dear, no. What Maxwell can do is much more powerful than that. Eliza had these powers as well. I tried to help her refine them, but they scared her. She knew Maxwell was special. She made me promise to never teach him to use them. Of course I honored her wishes for the most part. I’ve been teaching him here and there in case there came a time that he would need to use them. Tonight, he needed to use them.”
         “Why did you do this?”
         “Are you deaf? I just told you, I didn’t do this. Maxwell did. Well, he had my help of course.”
         “Why did you make him do this?” Tiffany asked, skeptical.
         “Do you know what I love about having a family? I love that I will always have someone to look out for and take care of. I’ve put my entire soul into making this family a strong one, ever since I said ‘yes’ to Jonathan. It hurts when people don’t appreciate the things that I do for them. It hurts so bad, I guess I just lose sight of myself. For example, when Jonathan asked for a divorce, I was so emotional. When I realized that he was going to go through with it, I nearly lost my mind. He had to pay.”
         “You didn’t kill Jonathan. He died of a heart attack.”
         “Oh didn’t I tell you? Eliza got her special powers from me.”
         Tiffany didn’t know why, but she suddenly believed Sharon.
         “You made him have a heart attack with your… powers?”
         Sharon smiled a sick smile of satisfaction.
         “Wait,” Tiffany said, still confused. “If you have powers, why did you make your grandson do this?”
         “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m getting old. Using this ability does wear one out so. My body and my mind just can’t handle it anymore. Maxwell is a young, healthy boy.”
         “That’s cruel. Why would you use his power for evil?”
         Sharon straightened her back and looked directly into Tiffany’s eyes. “These people were out to destroy everything I’ve spent my life building. I wanted a strong family. I wanted a family that was prominent and respected. They wanted to tear that apart. By morning they’ll be in the ground and deemed missing, and everything they wanted to do to destroy me will never be done, and my family will still be remembered as a great one. I gave them everything their whole lives. I give so much, and I never ask for anything in return except some appreciation, and no one want to give that to me. Not even you, Ms. Michaels.”
         Tiffany’s heart skipped a beat. “Me?”
         “I’ve invited you to every social event I’ve had since you moved in next door. I’ve given you chance after chance to meet people and let them see that you’re not like your father. I gave you so many chances to redeem your family name. And how do you repay me? By never showing up to a single one. And now, you must die.”
         Sharon began moving toward Tiffany, who didn’t know what she could do except back away.
         “Maxwell,” Tiffany said, “Stop her.”
         The boy picked his head up and looked at his grandmother, who smiled back at him. She kissed his forehead, and Tiffany realized that he wasn’t going to stop her. She stepped back and felt the heel on her shoe come loose and break off, spraining her ankle as she toppled over. She blacked out for a second as her head hit the floor. It was only for a second, but it was long enough for Sharon to be kneeling over her when she came to.
         “Maxwell,” Tiffany said weakly. “Please stop her.”
         “He can’t help you,” Sharon said. “His powers are not strong enough for him to use them on his own. He can’t do anything without my help.”
         Sharon put her lips on his forehead. Tiffany realized that she wasn’t kissing the boy, but transferring her own strength into his body so he could do his grandmother’s will.
         Tiffany’s heart raced as she wondered what her fate would be. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She tried to inhale, but her respiratory tract wouldn’t work. She couldn’t inhale or exhale.
         Sharon enjoyed the frightened position Tiffany’s face froze in as she died. What a little witch she was. Sharon was glad to be rid of her.
         She carried Maxwell into the parlor. The sky was a navy blue color, with a light blue still able to be seen off in the distance as the sun sunk below the skyline. The parlor had very large windows and she realized that every single one of them was open on the scene taking place in her home. She was glad her gate blocked the view from the street.
         Maxwell squirmed his way out of Sharon’s lap and ran over to his mother.
         “Mama,” he said grabbing her hand. “Play, please.”
         When Eliza didn’t respond, he immediately thought she was playing. He giggled and grabbed her hand and tugged on it.
         “Upstairs, Mama. Play, please.”
         He let go of his mother’s hand and it fell limp to the floor.
         He looked from his mother’s corpse to his grandmother, tears welling in his little eyes.
         Lights flickered.
         “Gamma, Mama play, please.”
         “Mama’s not gonna play,” Sharon explained.
         The lights flickered quicker.
         “Daddy play, please?”
         “Daddy’s not gonna play. They can’t play, sweetheart. Now or ever.”
         Tears ruptured from his eyes and rolled down his pudgy cheeks.
         The lights went out.
         “PLAY, PLEASE!” he yelled.
         “Maxwell,” Sharon stood. “Calm down!”
         He shrieked as she came closer to him. The house started shaking.
         “I WANT MAMA TO PLAY, PLEASE!”
         The house shook so violently that Sharon lost her balance and fell, smashing her elbow on the floor. She thought she had broken it, or at least injured it in some way.
         Maxwell continued screaming. He knew his parents were dead. He knew they would never play again. He was distraught. Whether or not he realized that he had done it, Sharon didn’t know. She was sure that he didn’t know that she had made him do it.
         Regardless, he was upset. The angrier he got, the more the house shook. Sharon couldn’t get her balance back to stand and make her way toward him. She repeatedly tried to move from her spot, but the vibrations from the house were too much. She was jerked back and forth until all of the windows violently imploded. A shard of glass caught Sharon in her throat. She fell back, unable to move, shocked at what was happening. How could she have not predicted this?
         As she bled out, she watched a shard of glass pierce her grandson’s tiny chest and send him flying. She couldn’t see him anymore. Everything was going black. The house wasn’t shaking anymore. That could only mean one thing for Maxwell…

         “To this day, no one knows who murdered the Finnamore family. It remains the largest unsolved crime in the state’s history. What we do know, is that whoever murdered them did a good job at leaving no clues, and making it look like a natural disaster. As for their neighbor, Tiffany Michaels, I guess she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
         Cara was Tiffany Michael’s cousin. She was five years Tiffany’s junior. She worked for a ghost tours company, and Sharon Finnamore’s house was the last and spookiest “haunt.” Seven years after the atrocious events, she was just finishing a group tour of the house, and stood in the same foyer her cousin had been found dead in. Little did she know that she stood in the exact spot Tiffany had been found.
         The windows had been replaced, the broken glass cleaned, the blood removed.
         “And the grandson was found dead as well?” a tourist asked.
         “Yes,” Cara answered. “He was found a distance from any of the other bodies. It was almost as if he was thrown. Like someone stabbed him with the glass and threw him across the room. Sharon was found at Jodi’s feet, with glass from a window in her throat. Jodi was on the couch, the veins in her right arm severed. Both women bled out. Eliza was in this doorway, her ribs crushed and organs pierced. Preston was at the bottom of the stairs. It appears he tripped on something on his way down. He snapped his neck. Tiffany was found in this foyer. There was no definitive cause of death. She just stopped breathing.
      “Rion was found in an upstairs bedroom. His death was the one that made the least sense. He appears to have committed suicide in the tub. Sharon told everyone he needed to rest after dinner, and he wasn’t heard from for the rest of the night. He was ruled out as a suspect because the crimes were caclearly committed by more than one person.”
      “Do you believe that Sharon Finnamore still resides here?” someone asked.
      “I haven’t seen Mrs. Finnamore. But she did love this house, and she put her heart and soul into the upkeep of it. I think that if she were to reside anywhere in the afterlife, it would be here.”
      She brushed her hair out of her eyes and realized her hoop earring was missing.
      “If there are no more questions, you can all head outside. I have to find something, and I’ll be right out.”
      The group headed outside and Cara retraced her steps, up the stairway and into Rion’s bedroom and bath, where he had drowned himself. If Cara had known what actually happened, she would have known that Rion was the only one who Sharon did not use Maxwell’s powers to murder. He was a genuine suicide. He was tired of living a lie and being threatened by it. He left no note because he knew his mother would know exactly why he had gotten in the bathtub and dropped a hairdryer with power switched on in the water.
      Cara was uneasy being in a room by herself where a man had been found dead. She moved on and eventually made her way into Sharon’s bedroom, still exactly as the old lady had left it. She saw her earring catch some light on the floor across the room. It was in front of the fireplace Sharon had put in her bedroom.
      As Cara put the earring in her ear, her eyes caught the portrait of Sharon Finnamore hanging above the fireplace. It was finished only a week before her untimely death. She shook her head at the painting, as if it was Sharon herself. From what she had heard from Tiffany, the woman was awful.
      “Oh, Sharon Finnamore,” Cara said out loud to the painting. “I bet you deserved everything that happened to you, didn’t you? Always smothering people, always wanting things your way. You spoiled, rich bitch. Why’d you have to take my cousin with you?”
Cara felt the house rumble. She looked around the room. Nothing seemed abnormal. She looked back at the picture and shook her head again, feeling as if she was going crazy.
         “You psycho. You were a control freak. My cousin didn’t even know you and she felt like she was being controlled by you.”
         The house definitely shook this time. Cara knew it was shaking because it didn’t stop shaking when she stopped talking.
         She’s still here after all, she thought. She panicked. She didn’t just walk quickly out of the room, she ran. She made it out to the bus and watched the house until they passed Tiffany’s house, now occupied by another family. She vowed to Tiffany that she would find the person who murdered her. Little did she know, she had already found and confronted that person.