Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine Novels & Stories

Eleanor seemed stuck, frozen in place for a moment and a blush appeared on her face as she instantly forgot that she was just upset with her mate a moment ago. “Y-yes,” Eleanor stammered, her voice softening as she spoke. “I was saying that out of all the packhouses, this one is my favorite. It’s far from the pack, allowing us to be by ourselves. But most of all, this garden... it’s my favorite, do you know why?”

Lena Max looked at me with compassion and seemed ready to hear my sad story, I sighed deeply, swiped my tears off my face and told him everything. It was so dark outside when I finished work. "Alena dear, it's kind of late, will your mother come and pick you up?" Mrs. Ann Willows, the owner of the grocery store I worked asked me. She was always so nice to me, and every time after my shift, she gave me a bag of candies for Oliver.

Eleanor had moved fast, too fast. She had the story ready before the police had even finished checking the study. She wanted the public angry before anyone could ask the right questions. Astra moved inside me in anger. “She is using lies to turn everyone against him.” “I know,” I answered silently. “And she will come for me next.” The elevator doors opened outside the office. Heavy footsteps filled the hall. Then Eleanor walked in with two police officers and three guards behind her. She wore black, as if she was grieving. Her eyes were red, but her makeup was perfect.

Eliza's POV The bookstore smelled like paper and dust and something else. Something I recognized but couldn't name. Eleanor stood behind the counter, her hands folded, her eyes on my face. She was smaller than I'd imagined. Older. The photograph in my mother's box had shown a young woman with dark hair and fierce eyes. This woman was gray and soft and looked like she hadn't slept in years. "You look like her," Eleanor said. "Your mother. She had the same eyes. The same way of standing. Like she was ready for anything."

Taking a deep breath, she climbed up the porch steps and knocked. For a very long moment, nothing, then, the door slowly opened by just an inch. One green eye, narrow and unreadable, peered through the slit. Then a slow, mocking grin. "Well, well," the voice drawled. "Look who finally crawled back to me." The door creaked open enough to reveal a tall woman in her late fifties. Evelyn Maddox was a beauty that had bloomed into something cold and harsh, like an ice-encrusted diamond left out in the snow.

(Nicholas Shaw - POV) Never once in over 300 years of my life did I think I would find someone who was worth more than my own life. But here I am now, falling into heaven as well as the deepest hell from which there is no way out. Eleanor was still asleep when I returned from my morning chores, buying salmon and cream cheese bagels. Her innocent face looks so peaceful on the pillow that it makes me want to go back to join her under the covers. The smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the warm feeling when they touched her skin, the sound of her laughter, every drop of her tears, her broken sighs, every second I spent with her was still not enough.

Eleanor sat with her back against the pillows, propped up against the head board of the bed and stared at Anna, who took the IV out of her hand, then proceeded to sit by her feet. Anna smiled up at her, "How are you dear?" "Did you bury him?" Came Eleanor's cracked reply. Eleanor watched Anna's face fall. Eleanor's eyes zoomed in on a bottle on the floor, beside her suitcase. A bottle of shampoo. The shampoo she'd bought when she had gone shopping. She had been planning to give that shampoo to Andreas. She could just imagine his reaction... How his eyes would go from the bottle, up to her face, then back to the bottle. She felt her eyes sting.

"Are you okay? You look a little pale." Not that she really cared."I'm fine."I heard movement behind me and looked back and saw Eoin asleep on the couch."I'm sorry, I was up late last night working. I overslept I guess." "It's fine. I was thinking about the conversation we had last night, about you taking Penelope to the wedding. I um.."She paused, mid sentence and was looking behind me.

Noah said, and I caught the faint, unguarded almost-smile at the corner of his mouth, the one that only ever showed up around her. "I never exaggerate. I select details." Eleanor waved a hand, elegant and dismissive, then turned that same thorough attention back to me. "Tell me something about yourself that isn't in whatever file my grandson definitely has on you. Something true. Something that isn't strategy." I found myself smiling despite everything the morning had already thrown at me. "I make tea when I'm anxious. Terrible tea, according to Noah. I put too much honey in it." "That's not terrible tea, that's tea with conviction." Eleanor laughed, a real one, bright and unbothered. "I lik

Jamie told himself he was just being neighbourly when he crossed the low privet hedge between their gardens. He told himself it was polite to offer help when he saw her wrestling with a heavy cardboard box of her late husband’s law books she was donating to Oxfam. He told himself he was only being kind when she invited him inside for tea “to thank him properly.” But kindness didn’t explain why his cock stiffened the moment he stepped into her living room and smelled her perfume—jasmine and something darker, like old rosewood and grief. Eleanor noticed. Grief had sharpened her senses rather than dulled them.