Stolen Moments

The knock at the door startled my aunt, causing her to prick her finger with the needle she was threading through a torn sheet.

"Dash it!" she exclaimed under breath. "Would you please answer the door, Adeline, while I put on the tea? Whoever it is must have come a long way!"

I started to do as I was told, but the face hiding behind the door when I opened it shocked me. It was the richest man in the closest town, Farenlou. Darrel White; known for his immensely successful career as a lawyer. He had fought in cases all over the country!

"Well hello, Mr. White! To what do we owe the pleasure?" I asked.

"Oh, sweet Adeline, I'm afraid I can't answer that question to you," responded, "but only to your mother."

"You're not in luck there, sir. My mother died during childbirth. I'm afraid you mean my aunt? Annalise Turner?"

"Ah, yes, that's the one." He smiled at me, which made me feel oddly uncomfortable. Aunt Ann and I live away out of town, so even from the closest in-town shop, the journey would take at least 30 minutes with an average horse and well-kept wagon. From the information I've gathered, Mr. Whites lives on the farther side of town, making it unlikely he didn't travel for less than an hour and a half. Despite this, his clothes were unwrinkled and not a single hair on his head was misplaced. His shoes were freshly polished, and his bag neat and new. He looked like he intended to stay quite a while, as it looked like it strained him to hold the leather case.

"Would you like me to guide you to the parlor, sir?" I offered.

His eyes crinkled at the edges and he nodded. "Sounds wonderful!"

After I lead him to the freshly-flowered room and seated him, I watched him place his bag awkwardly on his lap.

"If you are planning to stay, sir, let me take your bag to the extra room for you. It must be cumbersome!"

He nodded again and held the bag out to me. "Now aren't you a doll, Miss Adeline Turner!" This time when he smiled, I noticed that the only law about him was his yellowed, uneven teeth with unattractive cavities lodged in crevices and corners. I swallowed and grabbed the bag from him, wrapping both hands around the smooth handles. It smelled like pipe smoke. It was, in fact, very heavy. I wondered what he possibly could need to fit in there unless he was planning on staying. I tried not to show the struggle on my face and started to turn away from Mr. White when he spoke again, softer than he had before.

"Adeline," he told me, in a low and authoritative voice, "If I were you, I'd go pretty up. My son was following close behind me. He is about your age, and I wish to see how you two interact with each other. I blinked rapidly a few times and nodded, forcing a small smile.

"Thank you for informing me, Mr. White. I will, indeed, freshen up."

My jaw twitched and I bit my lip when I turned away. When I walked down the hall away from the parlor and up the stairs to the bedrooms, I struggled to find a solution to an impending issue: How does Darrel White, rich man, genius and successful businessman, know my name, and why is he trying to figure out the relationship between his son and me? 

When I returned downstairs to the parlor, I noticed the panicked look in Aunt Ann's eyes while she poured Mr. White tea. Without causing a fuss, I walked back to the kitchen to see what needed to be done. I did an inventory check of the cupboard, only to see the preserves and tea cakes we had were mundane. I quickly went to work making a jam using an existing one and other sweeteners. I added rose petals to the jar and mixed them in gently. Instead of pulling out past days' bread, I immediately unwrapped this morning's fresh loaf, barely entirely cooled from the oven. Then, I fished out a chunk of butter and melted it in a small pot along with salt. I created a paste with the mixture, and after stirring in a combination of herbs from the garden, coated the loaf of bread in a light layer of the sauce. 

I heard the lighthearted chatter from the parlor and stepped outside. The sweet summer air that held nothing but good promises was welcomed into my lungs with no objections. I walked quickly to the edge of the lawn and plucked a few different types of flowers, and chose a long piece of grass to tie them together with. I carried the bouquet inside and, after setting it on the table, went back to the cupboard to search for Aunt Ann's fancy platter. Once I found it, I loaded it with the bread, jam, flowers, and knife, all arranged in a pleasant-looking way. I carefully lifted the load and strode to the parlor. I poked my head in through the doorway and smiled. 

"I've brought bread," I announced, "and jam!"

"Ah, what a treat. I'm so famished! I came straight from Saronvat!" 

I couldn't help but gasp. Saranovat was towns, cities, away. 

"You must be exhausted! Are you planning to stay for supper, Mr. White?" 

"Might as well, with how late it has already gotten," Aunt Ann said. 

"Yes," I agreed. "May I go clean up?" I asked, motioning to my butter-soaked hands and herb sprinkled dress. 

"Of course, Miss," Mr. White answered for Aunt Ann. She looked around, surprised, as I hesitantly walked from the room. I could imagine if that was anyone else, how she would've stood from her seat and snapped at them for demanding her around so. I swallowed the laugh that was rising in my throat at the thought. As I washed my face in the water basin in the corner of the room, a tall, handsome figure caught my eye from the window. I straightened myself and plucked my face towel from the corner of my bed, where I had carelessly thrown it the night before. As I patted my face dry, I watched the young stranger approach the house. I noticed the same jawline and hair color as Mr. White, so I assumed it was his son. I hastily changed into a soft blue dress, one that I generally wore when I knew someone was coming for tea. I pulled the fancy boar bristle brush I had traded a silk bow for through my hair with a little struggle. After I finished putting my hair in a quick braid, I patted my cheeks to add some color. I smiled at my reflection. My wavy blond hair fit comfortably into two twin braids that fell over my shoulders, and my straight, small nose seemed to slice through the air in front of my face. I like the way my complexion contrasted the blue of the dress. The only thing I hated about myself was my eyes. One an ocean blue, the other a murky, swamp brown. I lowered my head and walked out of my room and down the stairs, careful to keep my steps light and ladylike as to not scare off the visitors. I plastered a practiced smile onto my face as I walked back into the parlor. 

"Why hello, Adeline! Peter, this is Annalise's niece, the one I wanted you to meet!

The boy, Peter, nodded and smiled mischievously. 

"Hello, Adeline," he said, drawing out the name with a sharp finish. 

"Hello," I responded, masking my curiosity. "Tea?"

"No, no, not for me." He answered.

"Very well then," I told him. "I'll go prepare supper, if I may?"

Aunt Ann nodded at me slowly and turned to Mr. White. I heard her speaking as I walked out of the room. 

"She isn't looking to marry yet, Darrel. What did I tell you?"

"You told me you would let me know and keep me updated, but that was years ago! I thought I'd check in!"

"You've checked in, alright, and I... think... must..." The rest faded away as I closed the kitchen door behind me. Just as I was unwrapping the ham, however, I heard the knob turn and the door swing open again. 

"Hello, Peter? Did you change your mind about the tea?" 

"No, just thought I'd drop in. I hate to be talked about while I'm in the room. You seem less like a neice and more like a maid if I say so! In the cookin', gatherin' flowers, servin' tea... all while your auntie hosts her little tea party to arrange your marriage."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! No one tells me I am a maid in my own house! and my marriage will not be arranged while I serve tea!

Peter stepped back and raised his hands in the air. "Calm down, okay? I only really came in here to get a better look at your eyes, okay?"

I instinctively dropped my head and closed my strange eyes. 

"Hey, there's nothin' wrong with 'em, okay? I just want to see 'em." 

His hand gently grazed the edge of my chin. He let it stay there a moment, checking to see if I was going to pull back. When I didn't, he let the other hand do the same on the other side of my face and raised my head. 

"Could you please open your eyes? Please?" he begged. 

I slowly unlocked the gate behind my eyelids and let them slide open. 

"Whoa," he mused, "They're gorgeous." 

We stood there, a stranger holding my face and staring into my eyes while I blushed, a half-tied apron hanging around my waist. 

Eventually, when we decided it was time to start supper, he retreated to the parlor. After supper, he pulled me to the parlor again as Aunt Ann and Mr. White got ready for bed and asked to see my eyes again and feel my lips with his. For the rest of his stay, I treasured our stolen moment in the kitchen and the parlor. No one, not even aunt Ann, had adored my eyes like that. Not since... not since my father died.