CHAPTER 5

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.