The Summit Society by Lisa M Miller

Author:Lisa M Miller [Miller, Lisa M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brother Mockingbird
Published: 2025-02-03T22:46:16+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Moonlight continued to flood her room when she heard a thud from downstairs, but the weight of the comforter beckoned her to stay in its cocoon. The fragrant smell of herbs mixed with hints of vanilla and warm bread meant her mom got an early start on the entrees and desserts she made from scratch. Tressa pulled her foot back as it touched the floor—it was freezing. As she scanned the room for her shoes, voices echoed in the cavernous foyer. Checking her phone, Tressa saw it was 4:45 a.m., an early morning or a late night. She paused before tip-toeing down the stairs, shivering from the cold as her hand fixed on the metal doorknob. Tressa heard her name but couldn’t make out the rest of the conversation. The hinges groaned, but the conversation continued below, her footsteps undetected.

“Thanks again, Alex. I know she appreciated that you stopped by”, Tressa’s mom gushed in a sugary, sweet tone. “She can’t live without her laptop.”

Tressa strained to hear Alex’s response, but as she leaned against the door frame and peered down the hall, she saw only two silhouettes locked in an embrace. As Alex picked up his bag and headed outside, her mother closed the door behind him. She stood motionless for a momnet, her hands resting against the doorframe.

Tressa coughed, announcing her presence at the top of the stairs.

“Oh, hi, honey. You just missed Alex. I’m sure if you run outside, you’ll catch him,” she said, smoothing her hair behind her ears.

“I see Alex every single day, and we talked before turning in last night. The two of you talking woke me, so I thought I’d say good morning,” she said while stretching.

“Well, it’s probably best. You still look a little tired,” her mom said, waving her hands above her head and tugging at her hair.

“Ugh, I’m going back to bed. Wake me if you need help preparing anything,” Tressa said before walking away.

She lay in bed, gazing at the intricate design on the ceiling behind the chandelier. Whenever sunlight filtered in or the light was switched on, a rainbow of colors danced on the woven plaster pattern. Though the bed was comfortable, the enticing aroma of freshly ground coffee beans tempted her to get up and head downstairs. She entered the kitchen and avoided conversation outside of place settings, updates about visiting cousins, and learning how to make cinnamon schnapps-infused whipped cream.

Later in the afternoon, dinner unfolded as anticipated. What seemed like days of preparation and fuss faded within a few hours. Her mother was a great cook, and every garnished dish looked as beautiful as it was delicious. Like something out of a magazine, as her stepdad described it. Candelabras supported the last of wax, and flame struggled to hold on. Empty wine glasses and crumpled honey-colored napkins interlaced with strands of spun gold littered the never-ending dining table. Conversation toggled between football games, next-day shopping sprees, and how full everyone was.

“Tressa, honey. How’s your senior year going?” her aunt asked, trying to start a conversation.

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