CHAPTER 3
After exchanging our greetings, Mrs. Eleanor invites us inside her home, to at least have something to eat. I'm glad she does, for my tummy is about to start rumbling, and I'm not sure what our hosts would make out of it. Walking in, we're regarded by the classic foyer with a warm ambience. A brown sofa is installed near the large window, and two wing chairs right beside the fireplace that sends a soothing warmth. I slowly settle on the couch, per Eleanor's cordial instruction, and a soft breath escapes my lips as I try to get relaxed.
For a moment I forget that it's summer time, and right now it's certainly burning in L.A. Being here at this particular moment is like escaping the furnace I call home. I'm now beginning to believe I've made a right decision by stepping out of California. This place is awesome.
So far so good.
"Would you like some coffee or tea?" Mrs. Eleanor kindly asks us, her voice gentle.
"Tea will do," Sam replies, and as usual, she looks so comfortable, seated cross-legged like a model. It's like she has no problem adjusting to people she's just met, unlike me who's having hard time keeping up with their presence.
Sam has asked me a countless times on how I manage to teach if I'm this introvert, and well, I'm not sure either. All I know is that once I'm indulged into books and literature in general, everything else ceases to exist; hence it's never been a problem at all.
"What about you, Kira?" Eleanor asks with her sweet smile, her big eyes so bright.
"Coffee, please," I utter.
"Me, too," Liam who has been silent since our extraordinary exchange earlier finally speaks.
"Okay." Eleanor nods, and then disappears to where I suppose to be the kitchen, leaving us in her son's company which is somewhat boring.
Am I took quick to judge? I end up consulting my subconscious who happens to think against my thoughts. Maybe I'm too judgmental and I should hold my horses.
Liam is sitting next to Sam, although they are not talking yet. Throwing a discreet glance at him, I can't help thinking of our handshake. But no, I got to snap out of it. Perhaps I imagined it as I was too distracted by the beauty of this place. There's no way such a thing can happen.
And why is my tummy in knots at the mere sight of him?
"You have a nice home here," Sam says, breaking the awful silence and my unearthly imagination.
"Thank you, Samantha." Liam smiles. "I hope you two had a smooth ride here." He regards me this time. And it's now that I notice he has a British accent.
How charming!
Sam answers, "It was okay. Although I slept the whole way. But I know someone who enjoyed all the scenery." She shoots me a glance, a mischievous smile on her nude lips.
With that, Liam's eyes rest on me as he asks, "Is Yellowstone to your liking, miss--?"
Seriously? Miss? Do I look like a job applicant?
"Jones. Kira Jones," I say.
"Ms. Jones," he mutters, his gaze calm and impassive. "I suppose you do like this place so far."
"Yes, it's a dream come true." I smile widely, and he nods, but remains pensive.
Well, maybe he's like that.
Thankfully, Mrs. Eleanor walks in and settles the tension. I'm glad Sam hasn't noticed the hostility in my voice when talking to Liam, for I'm pretty surprised as why I find his manners rather uncivil. Or maybe a bit . . . unfriendly?
"I hope you can enjoy this, because I personally made them." Mrs. Eleanor places a trayful of chocolate cookies and cream pastries.
"Damn, I love pastries," I utter greedily, ignoring the noble manners that I don't have to begin with.
"Then enjoy, darling," Eleanor says with a bright smile, and they all laugh. Except Liam, whose blue eyes are fixed on mine intensely.
No problem, I'm sure you'll get used to them in time. My subconscious says calmly and I see no thrill to her mock. At the same time, a young woman in a purple dress emerges, carrying the refreshments.
"Thanks, Betty," Eleanor tells her.
Regarding us curtly without a word, Betty places one cup on the table slowly, or too slowly, her long bangs of dark hair guarding her timid face. While at it, the two cups suddenly slip from her tray, and the coffee spills down the seemingly expensive, Turkish carpet.
I feel a sharp heat on my thighs, but not strong enough to be a burn.
"Are you okay, Kira?" Sam looks startled as she jumps from her seat, and at the same moment Eleanor asks, "Are you burnt?"
"No, I'm good." I quickly stand up, trying to fix the stains splattered on the skirt of my yellow sundress. "I'm fine, don't worry," I assure them.
"Oh, Betty, how clumsy," Mrs. Eleanor cries softly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let her carry that."
I see Betty fidgeting apologetically, her palms rubbing together nervously. It's as though she wants to speak but can't. She's most probably a mute, I grasp at the way she opens her mouth to no success of her voice coming out.
"I'm okay, Betty, don't worry," I tell her pointedly, reassuring her with a smile that it's no big deal. She gives me a shy one, nodding. "I think I need to change, though." I collide my gaze with Liam, and for once he looks human; his eyes unguarded.
"Okay, honey. Let me take you to your room." Mrs. Eleanor kindly offers, placing her perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder. "Please, clean up the mess, Betty, and don't hurt yourself," she tells the young lady.
I think Eleanor is pretty nice. Although I've met her only shortly.
Most women in her position tend to act like Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings; super meticulous and overly controlling, but I don't think Eleanor is like that. I wonder how it's like to have a loving mother like her, and I guess I never will.
Growing up without parents, has made me carry a soft spot for the elderly. Even the people I'm close with at work are mostly old professors. Dr. Snape, my psychiatrist, said that it's natural; given that I must be yearning for the parental love subconsciously. I think she is right.
I'm led upstairs, and I'm immediately awed to catch a glimpse of a huge library from a far end. I'm addicted to books, and I guess it shows right away from my stupid grin. Mrs. Eleanor notices and gives me a smile.
"Do you read books, Mrs. Eleanor?" I ask, my eyes fixed on my subject of interest.
"Me? No way," she responds quickly, and starts laughing. "They belong to Liam. He's the one obsessed with books, and a very good collector as well."
Him? I wouldn't have bet even after my reincarnation.
"Oh, I see," I quip, wandering my gaze around the silent hall accented with stylish bulbs of golden lights, and small paintings. The walls are coated in milky white, blending perfectly with the wooden furniture that seem to dominate the entire furnishing of this house.
We finally halt at the door, and Eleanor swings it open. I think it's the room, judging from my brown, Louis Vuitton suitcase that I come across. "Come in, Kira," she urges, and I comply. "I hope the room is comfortable enough."
To me this room is more than comfortable. It's spacious and luxurious. A nice bed made of wood is standing regal, its mattress covered with lavender blue and white beddings. And mostly, there's a balcony. What else would I need for my lodging?
Well, such luck indeed.
"It's fine, Mrs. Eleanor." I smile wholeheartedly.
"Just call me Eleanor."
"Okay."
"Well then, I'll leave you so that you can change. Meanwhile, I'll prepare you another cup of coffee," she says, and I nod. "And please, dear, don't hesitate to ask for anything you need. I want both of you to feel at home."
"I will, thank you." I watch after her, until the door shuts. What a woman! I like the way she addresses herself. She's old, but yet looks young and beautiful. And smells divine, too.
Okay, I'm not a pervert, I'm just an admiral.
Now that I'm alone, I take my time to catch a deep breath of vigor. I glance around the room for another few seconds, before pacing towards the balcony. The sight of the backyard is so amazing. A set of giant trees streams from a distance and the soft green grass carpets the ground.
Leaning over the handrails, I get lost into the beautiful sunset. The yellow-orange rays pierce through the woods, beaming faintly as the sun slowly walks the sky. I suck in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air that coos my skin. And I suddenly learn that there's another balcony to my left.
"Maybe it's Eleanor's room," I breathe.
A while later after a shower, I settle down on the bed. It's now that finally recall that I do have a phone. It's four-forty as I go through my inbox and call logs. Apparently, I don't have a single mail. Good for me. I'm happy the office has cut me some slacks, letting me enjoy myself.
"Hey, Kiki." Sam pops in suddenly, distorting my reverie. "Liam and I are going for a little walk. Wanna come?" she queries, and I frown.
A third wheel? No, I love myself too much.
"Not really. I'm just going to eat something . . . and maybe see what to do next," I retort matter-of-factly, putting my phone on the bedside table.
"Okay," Sam utters with a soft sigh. I see a disappointment hint on her sleepy-like eyes, and it worries me a bit.
"Is something wrong? Why are you brooding?" I ask, and she walks in, shutting the door behind her.
"Well . . . " She sighs again while taking a seat, making me frown bemusedly.
"Okay, tell me already." I move next to her, waiting for the response.
"It's Liam," she utters gently. "Well, what do you think of him?" She now stares at me expectantly.
Huh? What kind of question is this? I mutter mentally. "He's okay, I guess," I reply vaguely.
"Okay? How?" Sam insists.
Now I think it's me who needs a breath. What does she want to hear?
"I mean, he seems cool, awfully handsome, doesn't talk much, likes reading books. I'd give him eight at the scale of ten."
Yes, the two are for the unknown.
"Reading books? Where did you get that?" Sam lifts a single eyebrow.
"I just . . . found out somehow?" I say, feeling flustered.
"Forget it." She decides to ignore my remark, and turns serious. "I don't think he likes me as much."
"Why?" I ask.
"Well, he looks distant. Haven't you noticed? It's as if we don't have anything at all," Sam explains, and I think I've noticed that much.
Well, since Sam is not the type to blabber over a guy, it can only mean she's really into this cowboy. However, evidently, I don't know much of their relationship up until this point. So, what do I comment on this? I wonder.
"Look, Sam," I start after a little thought. "The guy invited you here, it means he wants you here, and that's the whole point. Just go out there, take that walk, and stop beating yourself up."
"Really?" Sam asks, unsure, twiddling her fingers. "What if he thinks--"
"What if he doesn't think whatever you're thinking?" I ask, and she bites her lip. "How would you know if you don't find out, Sam? He likes you, he likes you not, will you play that game as if you're twelve?"
"Crazy you." She laughs, and I follow suit. "So, I should just be upfront?" she asks me, sounding lost. Which is a first. This is not the Sam I know.
"Be yourself. If he likes you, he should see and accept the real you. You don't need to push it, just let the nature take its course."
Yeah, coming from someone who's never dated properly.
"Okay," says Sam, smiling. "Damn, keep reading those books, my sweet nerdy, they're so helpful."
"Thanks so much for your beautiful words, Samantha Ford. It's exactly what I'll do." My sarcasm is so evident as I mutter this. "Yeah, move it!" I push her to get up, and she obliges with a laughter.
"Love you," she tells me while leaving.
"Love you," I say with a smile, and I know she does. She finally leaves. "I hope it goes well, I really do." I sigh.
Sam has insecurity issues, we all do, but at least I'm living in a bubble. She hides it by freeing herself, and I hide mine by encrypting myself. We're both broken, I know, that's why we need each other.