Chapter Five

Chapter Five

MAEL VIRELIS

I woke up with a slight headache. I had had a long day the previous day. From the funeral to the commemoration dinner to calming Melrose's confusing hysteria to driving both her and Arden back to Arden's apartment. I had barely had any time to sleep because I needed to catch up on some work I'd dropped to be able to attend the commemoration dinner.

I sighed and went through my morning routine, reminding myself of the things I had to do that were outside of my work routine. I needed to see my aunt, consult with the architects I had met at the commemoration dinner and take Melrose out for dinner.

I had planned to take the drive back to New York tonight, but she had been inconsolable until I had said I'd take her to dinner.

I picked my briefcase after adjusting my white dress shirt in the mirror. I headed out of the Airbnb apartment I had rented for my stay in East Halewood and walked to my car.

As I put the car in drive, a call came into my phone. I picked it and put it on speaker while I looked in the rearview mirror, making sure the road was clear.

“My boy,” she cooed. I sighed and drove forward.

“Morning, Aunt Greta.”

“How was the commemoration dinner?” She inquired softly. “Is her daughter doing okay?”

“She seemed like it. Everyone spoke well of her.”

“I believe she's in a better place now.”

I said nothing. I didn't believe in the afterlife.

“Well, do you have some time to see me today or is that girl going to take all of your time again?” she asked. She was referring to Melrose.

For some reason I didn't understand, Aunt Greta did not approve of Melrose. It did not affect my relationship with Melrose or my aunt, neither did it bother me. I just found it a little weird because Melrose was likeable.

“Her name's Melrose, Aunt Greta,” I sighed, turning into a street. It was easy for me to find my way around East Halewood. I had lived here with my aunt for a year during my teenage years, the year my mother had died.

“I don't care, Mael,” I heard her sip and gulp something.

“Is that coffee?” I asked, shaking my head and resisting a smile.

“No?” She responded, giving herself away.

“Sure.” I chuckled. “Just put it away before I get to your place.”

“Oh, you're coming.”

“You don't want me to?” I teased.

“Of course I do, my boy. Just surprised the girl gave you space to.”

“Oh my God, Aunt Greta,” I chuckled.

“What? You know it's true. She's so clingy, it's sickening.”

“She's my fiancee. You can't talk about her like this. We’ve had this conversation,”

I turned into her street which was just outside of East Halewood, and immediately spotted her car in the driveway. I shook my head. She never put it in the garage.

“Fine, fine,” she sipped her drink again and I imagined her raising her hand.

“What's this meeting about again?” I asked, keeping my eyes on her car. I pulled up at the side of the road.

I heard some shufflings on the other end of the phone and looked up just in time to see her pull aside the blinds at her window.

“Mael, is that you?” She asked and I chuckled. “Yes, Aunt Greta,” I responded, killing the engine.

“Oh my–” she hung up, cutting herself off. I smiled picking my briefcase and tucking my wallet into my pocket. I took out the keys and climbed out of the car, walking up the driveway, around her car.

The front door swung open as I climbed up to the porch. She mirrored the smile on my face.

“Mael, my boy,” she engulfed me in a hug. I wrapped my free arm around her.

“You're acting like you haven't seen me in a year,” I teased. She pulled away, rolled her eyes and took the briefcase from me despite my resistance.

“When was the last time I saw you?” She asked as we walked into her home. I smiled. “Two weeks ago,” I responded.

“Two weeks! Do you hear that?” Her tone was accusatory.

“I'm a busy person, Aunt Greta.”

“I have no doubts about that,” she responded sarcastically as I settled in my favorite of her sofas. The leather armchair with a view of the dining table and kitchen.

“I have muffins,” she announced from the kitchen.

“Yes please,” I smiled. The last few days had been hectic and I had not had anything home cooked in a while.

“Coffee?”

“With cream and two sugars,” I responded, rising to my feet to help her with whatever I could.

She emerged from the kitchen with two mugs. I sat at the dining table, squinting my eyes at the mugs.

“You're not having another one.” I deadpanned.

“Mael,” she glared. I shook my head. I was not going to let her have another coffee.

She sighed and walked to the sink with a guilty smile, turning the mug over. She came back with two blueberry muffins and I smiled appreciatively as I took one from her. She made the best muffins in the world.

“You wanna tell me how everything's been?” She asked, biting into the other muffin.

“You know everything, Aunt Greta,” I chuckled. I always told her how things were going when she asked, which was all the time.

“Yes well…” she trailed off, smiling.

I took a sip of my coffee and ate the last piece of my muffin.

“So…” I wiped the crumbs off my lips. “What is this special meeting about?” I asked, leaning back in my seat.

“Yes, hold on a second,” she said and hurried off in the direction of the living room. She grabbed a ball of yarn and a crochet hook.

“The painting and interior designs of the children's home we discussed. I found an artist. She's amazing. I wanted us to meet with her and discuss what she can do relating to interior designs and paintings for kids,” Aunt Greta said as she started a loop with the wool. I could never understand how she, or anyone who crocheted did it.

“Right,” I said thoughtfully. “Have you arranged a meeting with this artist?” I asked.

“I did. I just didn't expect you to be this early… not that I mind.”

“So, what time did you set with the artist?” I asked, glancing down at the watch on my wrist.

“Noon.”

I mulled over what she had just told me. “I think it would be better if she sees the building itself and decides what she can do with it.”

Aunt Greta agreed with a nod. “Well, she's based in Portland and she's only here for the weekend, at my request. We need to establish that she has an initial interest in it.”

“You have pictures of the building, yes?” She asked after a pause.

“Interior and exterior,” I said.

“Then that should not be a problem.” she smiled. I picked the second half of her muffin. Her smile widened.

“Thanks for working with me on this.” I genuinely appreciated all the effort she had been putting in, and the support she had been giving me. She was an angel, just like her sister, my mother.

The building we were talking about had first come into my mind while I was at a donation project for children.

There were a lot of orphaned children who did not have proper care in their orphanage homes, or even their foster homes. The orphanages barely got any donations and the children didn't live good lives.

I was filled with the urge to create a place for as many children in need as possible. A place where they would live comfortable lives until they were old enough to take care of themselves. A place where donations made to them would actually be used for them. And I planned to use my influence to get as many donations as possible, for my foundation and other orphanages.

“Of course, koukli mou,” she reached for my hand across the table. “We're on this together.”

I grimaced at the name. It was an endearment, but a cringey one. My doll, my darling.

“Will you be surprised if I tell you it's noon already?” I asked. Her eyes darted up from the lines she had crocheted.

“Really?” She grabbed her phone off the table.

“No. It's just a few minutes to eleven.” I smiled. She shook her head.

“We better get there in time. We wouldn't want to keep her waiting.”

I nodded as she gathered the yarn in her hands, some other and the hook into a tote bag. “You'll drive?” She asked.

“Of course.”

She pulled on a sweater and was ready to go.

*** *** ***

We arrived at a small diner at the other side of town. The area was mostly quiet and there were a few people in the diner. Aunt Greta picked a window booth two booths away from the door.

“She'll be here any minute,” she looked up from her phone screen.

My curiosity about this artist and her work had been growing the whole time my aunt spoke about her. Why had she chosen her over every other artist? Why all the way from Oregon?

“Would you like anything?” I asked my Aunt.

“Yes, please. I didn't have breakfast. I was still contemplating what to make when you came.”

My aunt looked embarrassed.

I shook my head. “You should–”

“I know what you're going to say. Don't. Save me the embarrassment,” she pleaded. I chuckled.

“Fine. What would you like? I'll get it at the counter.”

“Waffles, blueberry syrup and some blueberries.”

I nodded, wondering if there was anything else that was healthy that I could get for her as I headed over to the counter.

I gave her order along with two yogurts, and waited for them to be ready.

As I headed back towards booth with the tray of our orders, a lady who seemed to be in a hurry bumped into me, toppling the tray’s contents.

She almost fell, and there was no point in holding unto the tray since everything had spilled. I dropped it and grabbed her.

“Oh…my God,” she gasped, holding unto my arm.

“Are you okay?” I asked, letting her go as soon as she was stable on her feet.

My eyes flitted over to Aunt Greta before they landed on the lady in front of me again. Two buttons at the top of her shirt had come undone and her cleavage was on display. My eyes went to her face and I was taken aback to see the woman whose presence at the commemoration dinner the previous night had thrown Melrose into a fit.

What was her name…? Ella? Ellen?

No, Elowen.

“Miss Winslow?” My aunt called. The lady turned around to answer my aunt.

The only thought in my head at that moment was ‘What the fuck?’