C2 The Meyer Mansion

[Six months later]

Grace adjusted her coat one last time and took a deep breath before pressing the bell at No 5 on the hill.

For a while there was silence, then faintly she could hear footsteps in a distance growing closer as they approached the door. She felt a sudden edge to run.

The door swung open, and an elderly man stood looking at her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Moon,” Mr. Monrow smiled at her. “we have been expecting you,”

He reminded grace of her grandfather. He was a warm man with greying hair at the temples, and a round handsome face with permanent laughing lines. Instantly she felt at ease with him as he led her through a long passage.

The outdoors didn’t resemble the indoors. From the outside, the house was intimidating and cold. With a clean lines landscape, manicured lawns, and flawlessly trimmed trees. Everything inside this home was warm and welcoming, although still very big, the Meyer mansion was a family home, with antique pieces and family portraits scattered around, giving the place a traditional character.

Feeling like an intruder, she followed behind the elderly man, until at last, they reached a closed door. He tapped lightly on the door and a deep husky voice from the other side responded.

“Come in James.”

Mr. Monrow opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. she stepped inside a carpeted room. Feeling the sudden change from the marble floor she had been walking on. The last thing she needed was to lose her footing. The room looked cozy, it was a library with walled books on each side, a blazing fireplace at the corner with a comfortable-looking couch in front. a tall window stood in the middle overlooking the garden. Next to it, there was a bar table laden with drinks and glasses.

Scanning the room she saw the person the voice belonged to. There he was. Nickolas Meyer, in the flesh. She let out the air she didn't know she was holding. He was sitting on the couch next to the fire.

He was wearing grey formal pants and a matching sweater, his long legs spread out in front of him, and his hand was playing with the glass he'd been holding, but his eyes never left her face. Those soul-searching eyes. She wanted to hide from his gaze.“Hello Nicko,” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscience but grateful for her oversized coat. “It's good to see you,” she added awkwardly, aware that she did not look the same as the last time he last saw her.