When they arrived at the London, Ontario, address, Griff was sure they were at the wrong place. The rambling ranch house was festooned with Christmas decorations. The eaves were dripping with lights, the lawn littered with elves. There was even a cheesy Santa sled, with reindeer, traversing the front lawn.
“Wasn’t expecting this,” Griff said.
He couldn’t decide if the garish display was comforting or unsettling. Luna had claimed that she didn’t know what to expect either and that talking about it would only cause stress. While they were still sitting in the car, Luna reached into her backpack and retrieved a bottle of Maker’s Mark. She’d seen Griff drink it a few times and assumed he liked it enough.
“This is for you,” Luna said.
Griff searched for a hidden card somewhere on the bottle.
Luna took the bottle, uncorked it, and handed it back to Griff.
“Drink,” she said.
“Wait, is your mom a teetotaler?” Griff asked.
He was the driest member of the Mann family, but he couldn’t imagine a Christmas Eve, especially under unknown circumstances, without some inebriation.
“I hope not,” Luna said. “She wasn’t the last time I saw her. Drink.”
Griff took a swig. “Ready?”
“One minute,” Luna said.
She removed a pill from a blister pack and swallowed it dry. Then she took an EpiPen from her bag. “You know how to use one of these things?”
“Why?”
“You just hold it against my thigh and press the button.”
Griff had assumed that the prime source of weirdness that night would be Luna. He’d also assumed that her caginess was partly punitive, the price he’d have to pay for inviting himself along.
When the pair reached the front door, Luna took a couple of deep breaths before she rang the bell. Then Luna’s mother swung open the door and smiled. She had short gray hair in a can’t-be-bothered cut. Griff was too distracted by her Christmas sweater to notice anything else about her appearance. A bright-red knit thing with stuffed animals on it. That’s what he thought until the stuffed animals started moving. A startled Griff yelped and stepped back, tripping on the stairs, falling on his ass. Luna turned around and offered her hand. She bit her lip to fight a smile.
After Luna helped Griff back onto his feet, introductions were made.
“Mom, this is my…uh, friend or something, Griff Mann. Griff, this is my mom, Belinda Grey.”
“Mrs. Grey,” Griff said. “Thank you so much for having me.”
“Call me Belinda or Bee,” Luna’s mom said as she plucked the living creatures from her sweater and held them out for formal introduction. “And these are Luna’s brother and sister, Lysander and Hermia. Say hello.”
Griff couldn’t tell whether Belinda was talking to him or the creatures, which he later learned were ferrets.
“Hello and hello,” Griff said to Lysander, then Hermia.
Luna appreciated that Griff addressed each one individually, which would score points with her mother.
“Come in,” Belinda said.
“I warned you,” Luna mumbled as she and Griff entered the overheated house.
The smell hit them both hard—a musty odor that overpowered everything. Griff tried to make polite sense of it, not understanding that it was the natural odor of ferret. He thought that it might have been a combo of mold and something in the oven with the distinct aroma of game.
The couple followed Belinda down a long hallway, flanked by closed doors and walls adorned with a few family and mostly ferret pictures. Griff studied every photo with humans, searching for young Luna. He couldn’t find her in any of them. At the end of the hall was the kitchen and living room. A lanky man in a ruffled apron hovered over the stove. He turned around to greet his guests. He had a thick helmet of brown hair speckled with gray.
“Beau, this is my daughter, Luna, and her friend Griff,” Belinda said, adding a wink to the friend reference.
Beau looked at Luna and extended his hand. “Luna, nice to finally meet you.”
“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Luna said.
Then Beau and Griff shook hands. After one forced smile and two handshakes, Beau returned his attention to the stove. Griff thought that a guy in a frilly apron would be friendlier than he was. Four adults and two ferrets crammed into the small kitchen got awkward fast. Griff asked Beau what he was making. Cranberry sauce, Beau said. Griff asked for the recipe, because he couldn’t think of anything better to say.
“Sugar, water, cranberries. They print it on the bag. It’s not rocket science,” Beau said.