by Rob Summers
Chapter 28 A Happy Ending at Leasing House
Meanwhile, the Leasing family knew nothing of the arrival of the Dothan or of a Navy Ball. Heavenite helicopters had come and gone from their street, and Guiles had filed a complaint with the police about the violation of aircraft laws and about the noise, but he had not so much as looked out a window to see what the Heavenites were doing. This was to be a merry Christmas, he had announced to his family, undisturbed by any bother caused by foreigners. No member of his family was to investigate the noises, he had said, and none did. When Christmas was over he would write a letter to the editor about it. For now, he was relaxing in an easy chair in front of the television, buried in coat, hat, scarves, and gloves, and watching the screen through snow—that is literal snow that was sifting down through the floorboards of the attic. All around him the pale fires of Hell played on the walls, the furniture, and the Christmas tree.
Despite the fuss created by the helicopters, Guiles was happy. He did not expect to be bothered anymore by Dignity and Reason, and what else could disturb him? He had a City Seal on his house. The Leasings ranked among the elite of the City. The family was all together (except for a few malcontents) and all healthy for this merry Christmas. He thanked God for blessings and success.
Prevarica came into the room and ran to find a place on her father’s lap, brushing the snow off him before she sat down.
“Is my little girl happy?” he asked.
She hugged him. “It’s a wonderful Christmas, Daddy. The best ever.” She shifted her denim-covered legs to avoid mold spots on the chair arm. “I wonder if you’d come down in the basement where it’s not so—where it’s even cozier than it is here?”
“Anything for my princess.”
She jumped off his lap and they started down the stairs, stepping carefully over the frozen, icy spots.
“Dad,” she said, “Neglect and Folly are going out for a walk to see the Christmas lights down Flood Avenue, but I wanted to stay here with you.”
“That’s sweet of you, honey.”
“I wish every day could be like today.”
“You liked your presents, did you?”
“Loved them!”
“I thought you weren’t so happy with those shorts Aunt Arctica bought for you.”
“Oh, no, they were fine,” she said in a voice so reedy that it cracked. “I just wondered if we could take them back to the store and get some jeans instead. I don’t like shorts anymore.”
“Whatever you want.”
They passed through the basement door and began taking off their coats in this, the heated area of the house. Soon they were gathered around a television with other members of the family, drinking hot cocoa and eating chocolate mints. Oblivia lit several bayberry candles, the scent of which more than covered up the slight smell of brimstone.
