Chapter 2

Through the course of her slightly over three-months long marriage to Gomez Addams, Ophelia was certain life could not get better. She was part of an unimaginable fortune and her social circle had expanded, upon her very engagement to Gomez, so rapidly towards the upper echelons of the society, that it was almost overwhelming.

For all her grandmother's biting remarks that her mother was breeding her for marriage, she was never more grateful for the said breeding than now, when she had to navigate the complex social circles of politicians and business magnates as Mrs Addams. There was a completely different set of expectations placed upon her. It was challenging, yes, but she absolutely loved it and was determined to thrive.

There were a lot of demands on her; business dinners and various social affairs to attend and all those women insisting she joined and supported their charities. Oh, that reminded her, she had to decide which charities to join. Her mother-in-law had suggested Widows and Orphans but, truth be told, Ophelia couldn't care less, such things bored her to death. Yet, it was a small sacrifice for all the benefits that came with being Mrs Addams.

Today was particularly exciting, she was on her way to collect her brand new car - a red Ferrari. It may have been obscenely expensive and perhaps a bit ostentatious, but she loved it. She always wanted to have one but her father, for all his money, was against extravagant spending, God only knew why. Her husband, however, did not have any such objections. He only slightly winced when she showed him which car she wanted, and then promptly signed the cheque.

Obviously, they had different tastes when it came to cars but, nevertheless, he readily agreed - as long as he didn't have to ride in it. Well, she saw no problem in that since whenever they went out together, they always had a driver anyway. Her husband also had an unfortunate fondness for that green antique vehicle, whatever the name of it was. It really didn't matter, because, in her opinion, the old thing belonged in a museum.

Thankfully, she wouldn't have to use it today when she went to the club later with her friends. She would make quite an entrance with her red, shiny Ferrari - no, doubt about that. She felt almost giddy with excitement.

Truly, life could not get better than this.

Actually, she thought as she passed through the dusty corridors of the Addams Manor, it probably could.

God, she loathed this old mansion. She couldn't imagine inviting anyone to this place, at least not before she renovated the hell out of it, anyway.

She already had an architect and a decorator in mind who'd help her transform the ancient dump, it was just a question of convincing her husband and her in-laws to give her free reign.

That, or ideally, she and Gomez could get their own place - some nice mansion in the suburbs. Living with her in-laws certainly wasn't something she was crazy about. Even though both of them were perfectly welcoming. Her father-in-law especially seemed to be delighted at his son's marriage to Ophelia.

And why wouldn't he be?

They were a perfect match.

Gomez was an ideal husband, she had no doubt that in the course of their short union he had come to absolutely adore her because he readily indulged her every whim. She could spend as much money as her heart desired as long as it made her happy -

She stopped in her tracks as the sudden weight pressed against her shoulder.

"Ugh, I told you to stay out of my way, you little freak," she hissed angrily when a decapitated hand landed on her shoulder. "Get off me."

Thing jumped on the floor and tapped unhappily.

"Oh, I don't care about the mail," she rebuked him. "Give it to Gomez or someone, for God's sake. Why do you even bother me with that?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes in exasperation at the frantic tapping that followed and unceremoniously moved past Thing, resisting the urge to step on top of him.

"One day I'm going to give you away to the zoo, where you belong," she muttered. "Together with that zombie butler."


Gomez Addams frowned at the documents before him. He had been reading through the contracts since the morning and the letters were starting to merge together. He took a glance at his watch and sighed. It was almost midday, no wonder he was starting to see double; he should have taken a break hours ago. He hadn't even had a chance to look at the stock markets today.

He lifted his head from the mountain of paperwork at the sound of the light knock.

"Hey," he smiled and nodded at his wife. "You look nice, going somewhere?"

She wore a powder blue tweed blazer with a matching skirt and nude, suede pumps, all completed, naturally, with the array of daisies which seemed to be her signature look these days.

She smiled back and nodded in confirmation.

"It's Chanel," she informed him, pointing to her outfit. "I just came to let you know that I'm on my way out to pick up the car."

"Oh, right," he replied, leaning back in his chair. He had completely forgotten she had bought this red atrocity."Well, have fun testing it out."

"Oh, I will," she smiled."Holly and Vanessa are coming with me. We will go to the club afterwards."

He smiled and nodded at her, not sure what else he could say to that.

"Are you working from home today?" she asked, looking at the mountain of documents on his desk.

"Until the afternoon," he replied. "I have a few meetings in the city later."

"Oh, okay," she retorted flatly and checked her long, polished nails briefly."I thought we could go out to dinner together."

"I don't think I can make it tonight."

Ophelia wrinkled her nose and made a clicking sound with her tongue.

"Oh, you poor thing," she smiled sympathetically and perched at the edge of his desk."You're working too hard."

She reached to touch his face and leaned forward to kiss him.

"We haven't had dinner together for ages," she pouted.

"We had dinner together last week," he pointed out.

"Gerald and Holly went to this new place in Manhattan," she told him, ignoring his comment."It's very popular, we should go as well. How about a double date with Gerald and Holly?"

Gomez almost groaned out loud. His wife's friends seemed to be the exact copies of herself, he could swear they came out from the same factory line.

He always felt exhausted after their evenings together, although Holly's husband seemed to feel the same way so at least he could count on a good company in his misery.

"Sounds like a lovely idea," he conceded.

She beamed at him happily.

"Oh wonderful, I will book us a table for tomorrow night," she grinned."I gotta go, I'll see you in the evening, don't work too hard."

He waited until he heard the sound of the front door closing and leaned against his leather chair. He tilted his head and exhaled tiredly, already dreading tomorrow evening.

God, he should stop being such a bastard to her. He should stop behaving like a hermit. It wasn't like him at all.

Ophelia was right, they were a young married couple: they should go out, have fun, do what married couples did. He should take her out more, at least twice, or three times a week.

He should spend more time with her, instead of burying himself with work - although, it wasn't entirely deliberate. Until they found a new accountant, Gomez had to make sure the books were in order and that took a huge chunk of his time.

He should make more effort, though, maybe they could find something in common with Ophelia - a hobby they could share together.

Well, they both liked large parties, so at least that they had that in common, but other than that Ophelia's main interest was - well, herself, to be honest. It was almost bizarre but she really liked to talk about herself - a lot. She seemed to absolutely love being the centre of anyone's attention and went almost berserk when she didn't receive it.

Which, in a way, wasn't a bad thing because she was easy to please that way. As long as she got what she wanted and he paid her enough attention she was happy as a clam.

She didn't even seem to mind that he never said he loved her. She seemed entirely content with their marriage as it was. It occurred to him more and more often these days that she wasn't in love so much with him that with the idea of him. That they had nothing in common, that there will be no companionship between them, they will live not together but next to each other.

He could never love her. He could never give her that, and what he longed for she could never give him either.

He groaned out loud, suddenly irritated with himself.

He had to stop seeing this marriage as a punishment. It wasn't bad at all, and Ophelia wasn't the problem.

He was the bloody problem.

He was startled from his pitiful musings by Thing landing in front of him at the desk, frantically waving and tapping his fingers against the polished surface.

Another groan left his lips.

Thing and Ophelia clashed in a spectacular way. He had no idea how it had started or why but Ophelia absolutely hated the little pet and Thing probably prayed daily for his mistress' early demise.

"Drop it, Thing," he told him, exhausted.."Just stay out of her way."

Thing jumped in front of him again and moved his fingers rapidly.

"I am not under her shoe," Gomez denied, laughing at the insult.

More rapid movement followed.

"And I am not a snivelling coward," he grinned but then he sobered up."I'm just not interested in encouraging any unnecessary drama. Just… try to stay out of her way."

Thing twitched unhappily and jumped off the table.

"She's not that bad," Gomez defended and called after him."And stop calling her Disaster Daisy, it's really not helping!"


Debbie Jellinsky sighed in annoyance and checked her watch, then sighed in annoyance again, tapping her foot impatiently.

Two-hour delay. Fucking hell.

Two-hour delay and the airport was packed with irritated people waiting to pick up their loved ones. Or whoever they were waiting here to pick up.

She twitched in her chair uncomfortably, she already had two coffees and a martini and she could really use the restroom but then she didn't want some jerk to take her place while she was away.

Well, the plane landed almost twenty minutes ago, according to the board, so Morticia should be here any second now.

Truth be told, Debbie was genuinely excited at the prospect of having a roommate again. She could use some company and Morticia was a really good friend. Well, that and the apartment she was staying at belonged to Morticia anyway.

They met at the bar over two years ago where Debbie was drinking her last bucks, proudly inherited from her latest deceased husband, and contemplating what to do next. She was broke and had no place to stay.

Debbie remembered she made some off-handed comment about Morticia's dress. She wasn't even all that interested in talking to her - she wasn't interested in talking to anyone that night but Morticia looked so unusual - a gothic beauty in the bar frequented by the worst of the city low-lives. God only knew what she was doing there all on her own among all those criminals and wannabe gangsters- most of them Debbie's good friends. Any half-decent woman wouldn't dream about stepping foot in a place like this.

Except for Debbie, that was. And Morticia, apparently.

But then, it was clear that Morticia wasn't just any woman and she could hold her own - happily drinking in the company of men who wouldn't think twice about cutting her throat for a free round of beer.

And that dress. Truly, it was so tight Debbie was curious as to how the other woman was even able to breathe under the constricting material.

And yet, despite her somewhat stand-offish appearance, Morticia had turned out to be really nice, she listened attentively to Debbie's tells of murders, more murders and even more greed. She was very understanding and supportive - they've been best friends ever since. Morticia also paid for their drinks which was certainly a bonus.

She offered Debbie to stay at her apartment rent-free for as long as she needed.

"Fucking finally!" Debbie cried out in delight, ignoring the unhappy looks of the people around her, and waved frantically at the tall woman coming from the arrivals gate.

"Debbie," Morticia grinned at her friend, hugging her affectionately. "What's with the veil?"

"Oh, I'm a widow again," she told her proudly, tapping the fancy black hat with a veil on her head.

"How wonderful, congratulations!" Morticia exclaimed in awe as they waited for the porter to load Morticia's luggage into the car."Was it the Judge?"

"No, that was eight months ago," Debbie corrected."This one was a senator," she informed her, as they both got into Debbie's Mercedes before her lips curled into a mean smirk."Well, he was a senator. Now, he's six feet under."

"Oh no, did I miss the funeral?" Morticia asked, checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror.

"Afraid so."

"Worst luck," she frowned, leaning against the car seat and turned towards her friend."So what was it this time? Tell me."

Debbie smiled at the eagerness in Morticia's tone. Her friend loved all the gory details.

"Ohhh, he mumbled something about love and country and, you know which was fine, who cares but then he told me - listen to this - sorry Debbie, no Mercedes this year, we need to set up an example."

"Oh, that's disgusting."

"Right?" Debbie nodded."So I ran him over with this baby here," she said, patting the car wheel affectionately.

"I'm so gutted I missed it,' Morticia frowned unhappily.

"I took pictures," Debbie said and smiled when her friend's face brightened immediately.

"Aww, you're a gem."

"Got some nice slides, as well."

"Marvellous."

Debbie grinned and started the car, backing out slowly of the tight car park space.

"So… finally decided to come home?" she asked.

"It's my sister's wedding after all," Morticia replied breezily.

"That was over three months ago," Debbie pointed out, biting her lip in amusement.

"Oops."

"Your mother must have been livid."

"Oh dear, oh dear," Morticia deadpanned examining her red polished nails."Who did she marry anyway?"

Debbie snorted in amusement.

"You don't know?"

Morticia pursed her lips and shrugged.

"None other than Gomez fucking Addams," Debbie revealed, raising her eyebrows and nodded at her friend.

"Addams? Well, well, I see my dear sister's jumping through those social hoops quite masterly."

"You got that right."

"My mother trained her so well," she supplied in mock awe."I swear she could be a circus ringmaster if she put her mind to it."


It felt strange to be back in the city, in the country even. Nothing changed much but then she didn't know what changes she expected in those fourteen months she was away, travelling through Europe. The devil only knew why she had decided to come back, anyway.

It was a spontaneous decision, as were most of Morticia's decisions. Three days ago, she was wandering the streets of Prague and felt so unbearably homesick, she bought the ticket back to the States the very same day.

Come to think of it, she could have waited a week or two with that decision because the homesick feeling was entirely gone and yet here she was, back home.

It was a small mercy that her grandmother gave her this riverside, two-bedroom apartment, overlooking the New York Harbour. It was over a two-hour drive to her parent's house from here which, in Morticia's opinion, was ideal.

Debbie, no doubt, was right that her mother must have been livid when Morticia didn't come for Ophelia's wedding. The lack of any letters from her mother, in the last three months, was a good indication as well. She expected that sparks would fly once she showed up at her parent's house. There was little chance her mother would let that pass.

Her grandmother, on the other hand, found the whole thing hilarious - at least that's the message Morticia had gotten from the older lady's frequent letters, but then Particia Frump cared little for social expectation, or reputations for that matter. Morticia looked forward to at least spending some time with her, she missed her indomitable spirit. Her grandmother was one of a kind.

Morticia smiled at the thought but couldn't help but gasp as she entered her apartment.

"What the devil happened to my plants?" she asked, dropping her purse on the maroon, velvet sofa and going straight away towards the balcony.

"Well, you asked me to take care of them," Debbie pointed out. "The roses bloom beautifully this year, don't you think?"

"Bloom?" Morticia repeated in outrage, touching the red petals with disgust. "They're not supposed to bloom."

"Ehm, yeah they are."

"You're supposed to cut the buds off," she insisted.

"What? No...you're ….you mean all these years you deliberately cut them off?" Debbie asked, putting the pot to brew them some tea."I thought you're just a lousy gardener."

"I'm an excellent gardener...oh, my poor darlings."

"Oh, relax, just cut them off then," Debbie rolled her eyes."This apartment looks like a jungle anyway. Also, did you know that most of your plants are poisonous?"

Morticia took one last, pained look at her roses and went back to join Debbie in the kitchen.

"Of course, they're poisonous," she replied."What do you want me to grow? Geraniums?"

"Daisies," Debbie deadpanned, smirking at her friend's pained expression.

"I've had enough daisies to last me a lifetime," Morticia retorted, eliciting an amused laugh from Debbie.

"So, do your parents even know you're back in the country?" she asked, opening the cupboard to take out two teacups and the saucers.

"Why, of course, they don't," she smiled."Why would I spoil the surprise? You know how my mother just loves surprises."

Debbie smirked, leaning slightly over the kitchen counter.

"Your sister is the star of the social gossip column - mingling now among the super-rich of this city," Debbie informed her."Ever since she got engaged to that Addams fellow. Charity dinners, golf games, private clubs, soirees - you name it."

"Sounds like she's living a dream," Morticia commented flatly.

Debbie nodded, biting her lip in amusement.

"Would be a shame if someone spoiled it, huh?"

"Now, who would do such an awful thing?" Morticia asked, unzipping her dress."I need to freshen up. Do we have any food?"

"Are you mad, of course we don't, I just stocked up on your favourite tea."

"We're so domesticated," Morticia commented, amused, as she removed her earrings and dropped them on the black, marble kitchen counter. She rubbed her neck tiredly, she hated long-haul flights.

"You know, they will probably expect you to attend those… what do you call them?"

"Feasts of snobbery," she supplied, smiling gently.

"Yeah, those," Debbie nodded."Imagine yourself, cheering those upper-class gentlemen all through their seventeenth round of golf."

Morticia couldn't help but laugh.

"Stop traumatizing me-,"

"While you sit with the ladies, sipping your colourful drinks and discussing the latest society gossips"

"I'm going to take a bath" Morticia announced, shaking her head with amusement. "Order some food, will you? I'm famished."


"Dead?"

"You are the last person to have seen the victim, Mr Addams," the policeman informed him."As it stands you are now the suspect in the investigation. I will need to ask you to come with us to the police station."

"Murder in the family," his father exclaimed happily, patting him proudly on the shoulder."It's about time."

Ophelia's jaw almost dropped in disbelief.

"Are you insane?" she asked. "My husband is not a murderer."

"Officially," her mother-in-law supplied.

"You can't take him to the police station, that's ridiculous," Ophelia insisted, purposely ignoring Eudora's comment. The woman was insane.

"I'm afraid we have to," the policeman replied."I understand this is a difficult situation, ma'am -"

"Oh for God's sake, can't it wait until tomorrow?" she complained, groaning in exasperation before turning her angry gaze at the officer."We have a very important dinner to attend tonight."

The officer blinked, taken aback.

"I'm afraid the dinner will have to be postponed, Mrs Addams," he told her.

"This is very inconvenient," she insisted.

"Murders usually are, ma'am."

"This is some ridiculous misunderstanding-,"

"Have fun, my darling," Eudora smiled, kissing her son's cheek. "Call us if you need us to bail you out. You must tell us all the gory details when you come back. I will cook your favourite dinner."

"We'll go about organizing the funeral," Harald supplied."We haven't had a proper party since your wedding, have we, my dear?"

Ophelia blinked, quite unable to believe this was really happening to her. Were they all completely insane?

This was absurd.

"Don't worry," Gomez appeased. "I'll be back before lunchtime tomorrow."

"That's not for you to decide, Mr Addams," the officer muttered.

"I'll be back before breakfast, now don't fret," Gomez smiled at her. "It's just murder, after all."

Ophelia exhaled angrily as she watched the officer take her husband – take? Ugh, he seemed to go willingly as if it was a joke. She had never seen him so amused.

Gomez inhaled deeply into the evening air as they stepped outside the mansion and approached the police car.

"So, gentlemen, anything changed since you last had me?"

The officer on his left shrugged.

"They painted the walls," he supplied lightly, opening the door for Gomez.

"Why?" he asked, ducking his head as he got inside the car." I liked the grey colour, it was so depressing,"

"Me too, actually," the officer replied, closing the door before taking the seat at the front.

"So, how is the old ball and chain, Mr Addams?"

"As expected," Gomez replied, wincing slightly.

"Judging that he's happier to spend the night with us at the police station than at the dinner with his wife?" the other officer snickered.

"I always enjoy your company, gentlemen, we have had some jolly good times together, haven't we?" Gomez supplied. "Cigar?"

"Nah, trying to quit."

"Why?"

"My missus says it causes cancer -"

"That's the whole point," Gomez insisted. "How is that little pup of yours? Must be at least five now?"

"Seven," the officer grinned proudly."He's really into baseball now."

He smiled and reached into his breast pocket, removing his wallet.

"That's him in the middle," he pointed out proudly, handing Gomez the photo.

"Fine little, boy," Gomez praised. "Outrageous hobby, though. You should buy him some dynamite caps."


Morticia smiled gently as she leaned against the door frame, lifting her palm to shield her eyes from the September sun and watched the scene before her.

She could never claim she had a particularly close relationship with her mother, they clashed often and quite ardently but Morticia always loved watching her mother's gardening.

Perhaps, it was because it was among the very few things they had in common - if not the only one. They both had an avid interest in horticulture, even if perhaps their choice of plants differed significantly. Ophelia, on the other hand, never had any interest in flowers other than those ridiculous daisies she constantly wore on her head, and so gardening was usually the only time Morticia got her mother to herself. She used to cherish that.

They both seemed to find a certain peace in gardening work, although it has been years since they both did any gardening together. In fact, it had been years since they did anything together at all.

Her mother lifted her head from the rose bush she was trimming and frowned as if to make sure she wasn't hallucinating and Morticia couldn't help but smile, making her way slowly towards her mother.

"Well, well," her mother greeted flatly, slowly removing her gardening gloves."Look who finally graced our humble layers."

"I really missed this motherly affection," Morticia retorted wryly, kissing her mother on both cheeks."How are you, Mother? You look well."

"I have been well, very well indeed," the older woman agreed." You, however, look almost malnourished. Have you been eating at all?" She asked, pointing to Morticia's slim frame and then, without waiting for the reply, she continued, "So, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"What makes you think it's going to be a pleasure?"

"Oh, don't start," her mother interjected sharply. "I must say you've really outdone yourself this time. Care to explain why you didn't attend your sister's wedding?"

Morticia shrugged gently at the question.

"I didn't want to," she replied calmly.

"How very typical of you," her mother huffed derisively.

"I'm sure Ophelia didn't miss me," she pointed out, smiling gently. "All that much."

"That's not the point and you know it."

"Well," Morticia sighed. " This is going very well."

Her mother shot her an annoyed look.

"What did you expect, flowers and a red carpet?" she asked, putting her gardening gloves back on her hands.

Apparently, Morticia's visit was not enough of a reason to interrupt her gardening work.

On the other hand, judging how well this reunion was going, it was probably for the best.

"I wouldn't be opposed to it."

"This is the exact attitude that - "

"Well, isn't this a sight for the sore eyes," the soft voice interrupted then and Morticia's face instantly brightened, her lips curling into a welcoming smile as she turned towards the voice.

"Granny," she greeted, extending her arms towards the older woman.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of her Grandmother, dressed in a two-piece bright red suit. Apparently still ignoring Morticia's mother's suggestion to choose some more toned-down, more suitable for a woman her age - in her mother's opinion. She still wore her hair in short, carefully curled waved- a look more suitable for a young woman, as her mother pointed out on many occasions.

"Oh, I could not believe it when they told me you were here," Patricia Frump beamed happily, hugging her granddaughter closely."Oh, it's been far too long."

"I know," Morticia whispered, wrapping her fingers around her grandmother's bony hands."I missed you dearly, Granny."

"You look beautiful," her Grandmother complemented." And I love the dress. Come," she urged, completely ignoring the annoyed look her daughter-in-law was gracing them with from above the rose bushes." I shall ring for tea and you will tell me everything you've been up to."

Morticia couldn't help but smirk.

"Everything?"

"Oh, every scandalous little detail, please."


Ophelia sighed impatiently as she killed the engine and exited the car. She was beyond irritated with the whole thing. She wanted to get away from the blasted Addams Manor at least for a few hours.

Her in-laws almost totally ignored her, apparently too busy organising the funeral to pay any mind to her distress.

Worse yet, her husband wasn't taking the whole thing seriously either. Indeed, he behaved like it was some kind of amusing game. If this whole murder thing hit the press, she will die of embarrassment.

Who the hell even cared who killed Balthazar, anyway. He was dead and that's that. No point to ruin everyone's plans because of it. She didn't have time for murders investigations and she certainly didn't need police snooping around her house.

"Hello, Mama," Ophelia greeted, a bit surprised for her mother to meet her in the hall, she sighed heavily." Ugh, you will not believe what happened."

"Hello, darling," her mother replied, accepting the quick kiss on the cheek."Nothing bad, I hope."

"Well, actually something horrible," she replied."You remember cousin Balthazar?"

Her mother frowned.

"Vaguely."

"Yes, well, apparently he was murdered last night."

"Murdered?" he mother exclaimed, putting her hand over her heart." Oh, what a tragedy - "

"They said Gomez is a suspect," Ophelia interrupter her."Stupid officers took him for the interrogation yesterday."

"Oh, my goodness -"

"They've released him this morning - "

"Oh, thank God," her mother exhaled in relief."Imagine the scandal."

"I know, I had to cancel our dinner date for nothing," she complained." Those people are such a nuisance. Anyway, there will be a funeral tomorrow at the Manor. I hope you have a black dress."

"Of course, of course," her mother nodded."We will be there. What a tragedy."

"I know, it's so annoying," she sighed, moving towards the parlour."I need a drink."

"Ophelia, wait."

Ophelia frowned at the apprehensive tone and turned to her mother with a bemused expression on her face.

"Your sister's here."

Ophelia opened her mouth in disbelief.

"What?"

"Morticia is here," her mother repeated."She came back a few days ago - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, just what I needed on top of everything," she rolled her eyes and tilted her head in exasperation."Perfect timing on her part as usual."

"Now, now, don't let her provoke you, you know how she is," he mother warned, smoothing Ophelia's blond hair affectionately." Don't argue with her. You're Mrs Addams now, you need to act accordingly. Be a better person."

Ophelia nodded but exhaled heavily, biting her lip.

"This week is just getting more disastrous by the minute."


"Tishy," Ophelia greeted warmly the moment she entered the parlour." What a surprise. You still dress for the funerals I see. Hello, Granny. Papa."

Morticia smiled and got up from the sofa, where she was apparently talking to their Grandmother, who nodded to her in greeting.

Her father threw her a short, happy hello darling, cigar dangling from his lips, busy struggling to open some long, wrapped tube.

"Always be prepared," Morticia replied, kissing her sister's pale cheek."Congratulations. On your wedding."

"Yes, thank you, what a pity you couldn't attend," she supplied brazenly.

"I'm sure it was just wonderful," Morticia retorted."Married life is obviously agreeing with you, you look very happy."

Ophelia blinked, momentarily taken aback by her soft tone.

"I am," she said, smoothing her blond hair behind her ears."So, ehm, are you back for good?"

"Extremely unlikely," she replied.

They both turned towards their father, who exclaimed in delight, apparently finally managing to open the tube.

Morticia smiled as she watched her father unroll the canvas.

"It's called The Cruciforms," she said."A friend of mine painted it. He has the whole series."

"Magnificent," her father praised, gently stretching the oil painting on the table."I love it, poppet, thank you."

"It's disgusting," Ophelia commented barely glancing at the painting of the crucified skeleton.

"His work is delightfully macabre," Morticia praised."He paints death beautifully."

"He does, indeed," her father nodded."I would be very interested to see more of his work. Does he have a sponsor?"

"Oh please," Ophelia interjected, flopping heavily on the velvet sofa next to her mother."I have just about enough talk about death. You should show this atrocity to my mother-in-law, she likes this weird stuff."

"It's called Surrealism," Morticia pointed out, returning to the seat next to her Grandmother, shooting a grateful look when the butler handed her a glass of red wine.

Thank God for good, old Mr Evans and his impeccable timing.

"Whatever," Ophelia sighed."It's even worse than that weird Mexican woman you like whatever her name - Franny something."

"Frida Kahlo," Morticia corrected, taking a hearty sip of the red beverage.

"It doesn't even sound like a real name," Ophelia continued.

"She's Mexican."

"What's wrong with American names?"

Morticia closed her eyes briefly and tried not to sigh. This was shaping up to be a spectacularly long evening, and they didn't even have dinner yet.

"Your husband has a hardly traditional English name, dear," her grandmother pointed out.

Ophelia looked at her sceptically.

"Addams?"

"Gomez."

"Oh yes, well, but that's different," Ophelia insisted, waving her hand carelessly."He's still American. It's his mother who's from South America."

"Really? Where from?" Morticia asked.

"I just said it," Ophelia insisted."South America."

Morticia bit her cheeks, immediately taking another sip of her wine, summoning all her strength not to offer a suitable reply.

Her grandmother, however, possessed no such strength.

"Ah, yes, just one huge behemoth of a country, South America, isn't it?" she commented in a deadpan manner, ignoring a flash on annoyance coming from her daughter-in-law.

"Exactly," Ophelia agreed, popping a green olive into her mouth."They should divide it into states as we did."

"Or countries," Patricia supplied smoothly.

Morticia cleared her throat gently, resting her below on the arm of the sofa and propped her chin on her hand, covering her lips with her fingers and fluttered her eyelashes when her mother shot her a warning look.

"Well, it's almost the same, Granny," Ophelia replied, as if she was instructing a five - year - old." Anyway, I hope you don't have any plans tomorrow because we have a family function -"

"I have plans tomorrow," Morticia interjected promptly.

There is no way in hell she could force herself to attend family dinners with her sister two days in a row. She was already exhausted.

"Well, then cancel them," Ophelia insisted, instantly irritated.

"It's a funeral," her mother supplied before Morticia had a chance to reply

Morticia turned her head towards her, her lips curling into a soft smile.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" she asked."I have just the perfect dress."

"I hope you will leave that presumptuous behaviour at home, please," her mother reprimanded sternly."These are Ophelia's in-laws."

"How could I possibly do that?" Morticia asked lightly before adding in a deadpan manner, "It's all but a defence mechanism I use unconsciously to cope with my insecurities and my constant need for attention."

"Well, I suppose, you held back long enough," her father muttered quietly, still busy with the painting.

"Oh, how I missed that dry wit," her Grandmother sighed happily into her brandy.

"Didn't we all," Ophelia retorted sarcastically.

"Who died?" her father asked.

"Oh, Cousin Balthazar," Ophelia replied off-handedly."He's Gomez's second cousin I think, I'm not sure, that family is so big I can hardly remember them all."

"Balthazar?" her father repeated, surprised."But he's so young, what on earth happened?"

"Murdered, apparently. And you," she turned towards Morticia."Promise me you will be super nice to him."

Morticia frowned and tilted her head slightly to the side.

"To... Balthazar?"

"Gomez," Ophelia sighed in annoyance."You know, my husband."

"Oh, him. Well, don't fret," Morticia replied carelessly and smiled softly at her sister. "I love funerals, I shall be on my best behaviour… I promise."


A/N: Thank you for reading!