Holidays In The Hamptons [COMPLETE]

Chapter Two

"Here. Try this."

Marley's glazed-over eyes came back into focus and the red, green, and white Christmas lights of the evergreen looming before her faded back into view. It took her brain an extra millisecond to pull her eyes from the large Christmas tree standing stories high in the large foyer of her grandmother's mansion and turn towards where the command had come from.

Her sister, Stella, was suddenly standing right next to her, holding out what looked to be an ordinary chocolate chip cookie.

"Here. Try it. I'm serious."

Marley unwrapped her arms from where they had twisted upon themselves in front of her chest and took the cookie from her sister.

"They used butter instead of Crisco. It takes like crap. Amateur hour."

Marley was nodding before she swallowed. Stella was right. The caterers had used butter. The result, they were now serving the high and mighty guests of Theodora Clausen's annual Christmas Eve party flat, gummy chocolate cookies.

"Too bad no one thought to ask your advice," Marley finally said, a large piece of cookie stuck in her teeth that her tongue had to work to get out. She handed the rest of the failed cookie to her sister who then wrapped it in a napkin and went looking for a trash can.

Marley watched her go, jealous that Stella seemed completely oblivious to the pathway she created before and behind her. Her outfit was nowhere near the apparently required deep forest green velvet or cherry red silk that the rest of the guests wore.

She was wearing a loose navy blue peasant top with a flowered pattern that Marley knew she had borrowed from their mother. It set off her dark brown hair and serious expression.

It was weird seeing Stella without her apron, an accessory she was hardly ever without as the most time Marley and Stella got to spend together was on the way to and from work when it hung over Stella's shoulder. Or during their lunch breaks when they were lucky enough to coincide when Stella didn't even bother taking it off, happy to walk around the city with a black apron splattered with flour tied around her waist.

Once her sister had disappeared back into the depths of the party and Marley lost sight of her among the throngs of people filling the first floor of her grandmother's Hamptons home, Marley's eyes panned back to the giant Christmas tree.

She too wasn't dressed for the occasion. Her mother had told her to pack something nice and Marley had assumed the black slacks she'd had to buy for her grandfather's funeral that spring and the white blouse she wore for interviews and college dinners would have been fine. She didn't know it yet but she was dressed like the servers hired to work the event.

Staring at the tree, taking in its numerous ornaments, none of them handmade and all of them color-coordinated, Marley saw all the stories her mom used to tell her and her sisters when they were little come to life.

It was always Gabbie who asked for the stories, the youngest of them all and the most demanding. Their mother, Avery, seemed happy to comply. 

She told them stories of magical balls and parties where the women were dressed in the most expensive fabrics and the men in neat black and white suits, everyone so handsome and beautiful, the music incredible and never-ending, the laughter and friendship flowing. 

She made it seem like a fairy tale, her old life, the life she left behind when she choose to elope with a broke comedy writer and move into a studio apartment in Washington Heights, against her parents' wishes.

Stella was the first to grow disinterested in the stories and Marley soon followed, her child's brain maturing enough to know there must be more to the story. If such a place existed if it was so magical as Avery described it, then why had she left? Why didn't they ever see Grandma and Grandpa?