Our Family Home

Noell sat by the gaslit fireplace, picking at the missed dough under her fingernails. Laughter and voices throughout the house reached her ears but didn't penetrate her thoughts. A Christmas carol was playing in the background, adding to the buzz. The timer's bell went off but was ignored. Suddenly someone opened the front door, letting in a burst of cold, wafting the scent of fresh-baked cookies—finally waking her from memories.

Mack, her stepsister and once best friend, hurriedly stomped and scraped her boots on the utility mat. She looked over; her smile widened as she saw Noell, and then she waved to her. It was like watching a replay of the day Mack destroyed her heirloom dollhouse. A beautiful handmade replica, from the framing to the furnishings, of the very home they were in. The Gallagher home. Her family's.

An ottoman that Noell's legs had been resting on toppled over as she rose abruptly. "Can someone take those out of the oven?" Noell hollered as she made her way to the kitchen. Her head swirled with fake confrontations with Mack. She fantasized about throwing mashed potatoes at Mack's freckled face. Imagined calling her a neglectful langer.

Leanne met her in the hall, blocking her the entrance. "We've got it covered, doll. Why don't you go into the dining room? Go spend some time with the family. Mack has been dying"—Noell shook at the word "dying," but Leanne wasn't paying attention—"to talk to you about a project she's working on." Before she could protest, Leanne took hold of her arm.

Conversation seemed unavoidable as Leanne ushered Noell into a too-packed room filled with mostly family and some close friends of the Gallagher clan. The table had been extended, but another table had been added at the far end of the room. Both tables had identical tablecloth runners and edible cornucopia centerpieces. The good silverware was wrapped in burnt orange cloth napkins, and ornate plates were set under woven pumpkin-shaped placemats. Wine and champagne glasses had been set but were long taken by the guests. They filled the usually spacious room. Some were in pairs whispering in corners, while others who had already claimed their seats at the table talked excitedly.

Twin cousins, Jessy and Josie, sat side-by-side, wearing matching sparkly pink sweaters with a big red bow on the front. Noell rolled her eyes. At 38 years old, they still insisted on doing everything together. When she was younger, she envied them. They had their own language yet could communicate with just their bodies. As an adult she recognized it was about having that built-in best friend. She had Patrick, Sloane, Collins, and Delaney, sure, but they were all much older. She was the youngest by eleven years. Collins and Delaney showed some interest when she was a baby and toddler, but her appeal wore off shortly after they became interested in boys. Patrick was off at college by then, and Sloane was a newlywed. It was like being an only child, really.

At one time there was Mack. Their parents married after both becoming widows. They had been seventh-year schoolmates at Sacred Heart when their parents met at a Christmas pageant. They could have, sort of, been twins like her cousins had they been born one month and a day apart and, of course, by the same Ma and Pop. She was just rising from a chair when Noell changed course.

Sloane's oldest daughter, Fiona, had her arm around a petite woman with faded purple hair. They stood near the bar Noell's Granda had built himself. Patrick was behind it, doling out spirits and shouting at them about asset allocations. Her aunt Reg waddled with a half-spent wine glass toward her Uncle Nolan with that drunken fire in her eye. Noell went to turn out of the room when Mack squealed, coming up behind her.

"About damn time! Noell! Where have you been hiding?" Mack demanded.

The kitchen was meant to be her refuge, but when her stepmom Leanne insisted on taking over, she had sought it by the fireplace. That reprieve was over. It would take a lot of energy, but it was time to put on a disingenuous smile. "Fake it until you make it," her Granda had often reminded her.

Mack wore a sweater dress that stopped at her knees with patterned tights underneath. Her smile was wide and punctuated by her fire engine red lip gloss. She beckoned Noelle over as she grabbed a deviled egg from a tray on the wooden island Granda had also made.

"You know," Mack said as Noelle reached her, "you're a hard gal to get ahold of?"

It was true that Mack had left her dozens of voicemails and even more text messages.

"Mack, I'm..." she started, but Mack interrupted. She started to move, but just like Leanne, Mack grabbed hold of her arm.

"I get it. I do. You're not the only one who lost someone, Noell. Like, okay, we all know you had this unique bond with Granda. This," she gestured at Noell, "is no good. You haven't been yourself since he passed. It's been three years."

"I'm home, aren't I!" Noell could feel her heart gaining speed. The blood rushed to her face, causing heat to light her skin. Anger. Shame. Embarrassment. All the reasons that had kept her isolated tonight slammed into her. An audible quiet came after Noell's outburst, then a hand placed itself on Noell's shoulder. Collin's vintage claddagh ring, left to her by Ma, glinted off some candlelight nearby. She gave her a squeeze, kissed her on the cheek, said some pleasantry to Mack, and flitted away. It was a long enough distraction that everyone had returned to their discussions.

Noell came back to herself. "Fake it until you make it," she heard Granda's advice. She asked, "Leanne said you're working on a project." Mack's eyes squinted as her cheeks scrunched with her smile.

"Ma," Mack shouted with a turned head, although she wasn't anywhere near. "Big gossip!" She faced back to Noell and sighed, "It was supposed to be a surprise." She hesitated, "I am so very sorry for what happened to the dollhouse."

"No, stop there. I don't want to talk about it." Noell stuck her pointer fingers in her ears. She knew she was being childish.

Mack grabbed at her hands. "Dammit, Noell! Just listen for, like, one minute. Okay?"

Everyone had gone silent again. Noell hated scenes. She tried to recall the breathing techniques she learned on her retreat this summer. Inhale for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5; exhale for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. She repeated for several sets and then finally nodded her head. "Say your piece."

"So... you and Granda, like I said, had a unique bond. The dollhouse he built for your Grandmam. Not like this home, which hadn't been kept up with, and over time Granda noticed it needed some repairs. He had started to freshen it up for you. Then he got sick. He couldn't finish it, so he asked me if I could. You know me! Not a craft bone in my body, but he instructed me to set up FaceTime, with Ma's assistance, and guided me through the process."

Mack wove Noell's finger through hers. She held her hand as she led her to Granda's workshop that connected to the mudroom.

The room had been locked since Granda's death; at least Noell thought so. She certainly hadn't been inside. There were too many memories in there. Him teaching her to sand, polish, and shape the wood. She had helped add a porch swing to the dollhouse when she finally blended the right shade of blue. The smell of cedar and pine tickled her nostrils with the recollection.

Pop appeared at her side with a key. "Here, Chestnut," he handed it to her empty hand. "After you, Walnut," he said to Mack.

A long oak workbench was pressed up against the wall. Dead center was the dollhouse. Noell studied it. It was newly painted with updates to reflect the changes that happened over the years. The blue porch was the same shade yet brighter. A claw tub had been added to the master; it was a present Granda gave Grandmam a few years before her passing. A set of extra bunk beds placed in one of the guest rooms to show the expanding kin. The most striking change was the figurines.

Granda had never been the type to shape people. He dealt in furniture and architecture. These were obviously not his work, yet they were magnificent. They fit the scene perfectly. Each a version of the Gallaghers. The twins' faces were mirrored in the same toothy howl. Sloane and Fiona cheered with glass necked beers. Delayne's four girls along with second cousins chasing each other around the pear tree in the backyard. Angels, resembling Mack's Pop and Noell's Ma, and Granda hugging Grandmam with halos atop their heads stood atop the roof. She could only gape wordlessly. It clicked at last, she saw the two of them, her and Mack, in the workshop carving walnut and chestnut.