"Okay, okay, I promise I won't do this again next time. Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I'm saying it in advance so you shouldn't be mad at me anymore... Please, I didn't mean to upset you... If you keep pushing, I might break down right here in the airport lobby. Do you really want me to cry in front of everyone?... I know I love you too, Jessie, but... before I hang up, I need to say... I need to say... Jessie, I miss you so much, really!"
Click. Angela let out a deep sigh after ending the call. Damn it, that feeling resurfaced once more. I just wanted to express "I miss you," so why is my heart racing like this?
The young girl made her way back to the VIP lounge and settled down beside her parents. The flight had been delayed momentarily due to heavy snowfall. She picked up what appeared to be the latest issue of Rolling Stone, as claimed by its cover.
In truth, it had been available for quite some time. However, to her delight, there was an entire section dedicated to reviews of her three songs. The page boasted a striking red background adorned with a prominent black silhouette and a prominent white question mark at its center.
The reviews presented a mix of negative and positive comments, with the majority of criticism focusing on the lyrics and composition. However, there was unanimous acclaim for her exceptional singing ability.
Among the reviews, one in particular stood out: "Immensely perfect, even the flaws are flawlessly executed. Yes, there may be some shortcomings, but Miss AM artfully weaves them into the songs, bestowing these imperfections with a distinct charm. Truly remarkable."
Such high praise left Angela feeling somewhat unsettled. It all seemed too surreal. Perhaps she should seek out more opinions from Billboard? Regrettably, she couldn't purchase a copy at the moment, so she would have to wait until her return from London after the New Year to discover more.
However, when it came to the young girl on Christmas Day, Angela couldn't help but wonder if she truly was Scarlett Johansson. Unlike Lindsay Lohan, Angela had never witnessed Scarlett's childhood, and Scarlett lacked any distinctive features like Lindsay's red hair.
Well, it was best to let go of such thoughts. What did it matter, after all? Instead, Angela focused on the upcoming New Year in London, where her strict great-grandfather, the Duke, would surely hold her accountable. It was enough to give her a headache.
...
As Angela woke up groggily, she found herself already in the car. It was rare for her to fall asleep in her father's arms.
"Hey, Dad, have we arrived?" The little girl yawned and sluggishly sat up, her eyes still half-closed as if she longed to return to sleep.
"Wow, sleepyhead. Your dad carried you off the plane and into the car, and you've been snoozing the entire time. Looks like you're still half-asleep," a familiar voice chimed in, causing Angela to startle and instantly open her eyes. "Uncle Frank?!"
"It's me. Surprise, surprise!" Frank chuckled from the driver's seat.
"As long as you're not Butler Gerald, it's all good," Angela sighed with relief, still yearning to snuggle back into her father's arms. However, her mother had already lifted her up.
"Chris, you misspoke just now," Elena remarked while adjusting her collar, giving Angela a meaningful look.
Angela playfully stuck out her tongue, choosing not to respond. She had momentarily forgotten that she was in England, specifically London. She had accompanied her mother to her grandfather's house, which meant that certain protocols—such as proper etiquette—had to be strictly observed.
"My dear sister, when did you become so formal, just like Dad?" Frank called out from the front, his tone teasing.
"Frank, it's not about formality. There are certain etiquettes that should always be upheld," Elena replied, emphasizing the importance of proper conduct.
Frank shrugged, muttering under his breath, "This is quite unlike you from when you escaped." Of course, he made sure to keep his words low, aware of the potential consequences if Elena were to overhear.
Upon their arrival at Albert Manor, it was approaching 5 o'clock, and darkness was descending upon the sky. The manor had been adorned with a dazzling array of lights, and the Christmas decorations had been replaced with vibrant New Year's ornaments, casting a beautiful spectacle against the snowy white landscape.
As soon as Angela stepped out of the car, the air filled with barking sounds, and two sizable sheepdogs came running toward her. Angela couldn't help but giggle as she clapped her hands in delight, immediately opening her arms.
One of the sheepdogs eagerly leaped into her embrace, happily wagging its tail and attempting to shower her with affectionate licks.
The little girl squealed with joy, playfully dodging around, while the other sheepdog, slightly slower, circled around her, whimpering softly and rubbing against her legs in a show of adoration.
"Okay, Pluto, Bobby, enough! Stop!" the little girl called out multiple times, and the two large dogs finally halted their playful antics, obediently standing by her side.
"No wonder these two fellows were racing so energetically. It seems my little angel has arrived," spoke the voice of an elderly yet resonant man. A slightly balding, white-haired gentleman with a walking stick approached.
Unlike the calm and composed demeanor of Grandfather Kleist Mason, Grandfather Clark Albert exuded a more outgoing nature. Accompanying him was Gerald, the black-suited butler, whose lips curved slightly upwards, giving off an appearance of serenity. Those familiar with him, however, knew that it was merely a façade.
Angela felt the desire to approach the old man and embrace him, but a moment of hesitation held her back. Eventually, she chose to remain where she stood, crossing her right leg behind her left and delicately lifting an imaginary corner of her skirt, lowering her body in a display of courtesy.
The old man paused, his laughter filling the air. "What's this? When did you start greeting me in such a manner, my dear?"
The little girl playfully stuck out her tongue, momentarily at a loss for words. Fortunately, her mother stepped forward and embraced the old man. "Happy New Year, Father."
"Happy New Year, Father-in-law," Jared stepped forward and warmly shook hands with the old man. While he may have contrasted with his composed father, he shared a close bond with his lively father-in-law, resulting in an intriguing dynamic.
Guided by the old man, the family stepped into the manor. In stark contrast to Grandfather's mansion in New York, the entire estate was enveloped in a classic English style.
From the intricately designed doors and windows to the elegant drapes and nooks, every detail exuded a captivating antique charm. The centerpiece was the grand fireplace, radiating warmth and adding to the overall ambiance.
Mom's siblings, or more precisely her younger brothers and sisters, had all returned early, except for the youngest sister, Winnie, who remained in Athens. Angela joyfully greeted the elders, appreciating one of the advantages of Western culture. Regardless of their actual relationship, as long as they belonged to the same generation as her parents, males were universally addressed as "Uncle" and females as "Aunt," conveniently avoiding any complications or confusion.
In general, the atmosphere within the family was more pleasant compared to their experiences in New York. It wasn't that the ambiance at Grandfather's house was negative, but there had been a time when Mom and the family had clashed due to her love for Dad, resulting in her storming out in anger.
However, she eventually managed to reconcile with her grandfather in a genuine and heartfelt manner. In contrast, Dad had maintained a distant relationship with his own father, seldom engaging in face-to-face conversations.
Nevertheless, one inevitable aspect remained—a pre-dinner prayer. Despite the fact that the little girl had been baptized—how else would she have a godfather—her faith was nominal, and it was evident that she was not a devout believer.
Moreover, her parents had exhibited a rebellious streak during their youth. While they identified as Christians, they were not particularly enthusiastic about attending church services or engaging in religious rituals.
However, the two elderly men held different religious beliefs—one devoutly followed Judaism, while the other was a devout Christian—and their expectations in this matter were quite strict, especially for her maternal Grandfather. As a nobleman, he adhered to numerous protocols, which were typically manageable on regular days but were essential to be observed during holidays.
Confronted with the enticing scent of smoked fish, ham, cheese, and mashed potatoes spread across the expansive table, the little girl couldn't help but feel her mouth water. However, she had to resist the temptation and maintain a proper posture on the bench, joining in the collective prayer with everyone else.
Following that, with the assistance of the servants, she delicately picked up her food and consumed it in small, refined bites, exuding an air of grace and elegance. Ah, if only she had managed to eat something during the plane journey instead of sleeping through the entire duration.
The one consolation for the gathered individuals was that Grandfather's displeasure was relatively restrained. He had expressed a desire for a glass of red wine, but the butler promptly removed the bottle.
"I'm afraid you cannot partake in wine, not even a sip," the butler stated politely yet resolutely.
Grandfather had little to say or do in response. He muttered a few words under his breath, shrugged his shoulders, and let the matter rest. Mr. Gerald had been his loyal companion since childhood, growing up alongside him.
As the evening progressed, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Positioned before the crackling fireplace, the family members formed small clusters, engaging in intriguing conversations. If anyone wished to watch television, they were welcome to retreat to their respective rooms; the living room was reserved for meaningful exchanges.
As the eldest granddaughter, Angela naturally garnered more attention. Her innate affinity extended to animals as well, captivating the hearts of creatures such as the two large dogs and the horses residing in the stable.
Presently, Grandfather's snow-white Persian cat rested contentedly in her arms, its eyes squinting in relaxation. This tiny kitten held a special place in Grandfather's heart, always remaining faithfully by his side. Even attempts by others to engage with the feline were met with a dismissive gaze.
"This is truly unfair. Why does Juju always prefer to be by your side?" Frank remarked, attempting to playfully stroke the cat's chin, only to be promptly swatted away by the naturally sly little feline.
"What's the matter, Uncle Frank? Are you feeling jealous of a tiny kitten now?" Angela remarked with a mischievous grin, as she continued to tenderly scratch Juju's chin. The cat responded with a contented meow, leaving Frank with a wry expression.
"A proud little feline," Uncle Frank commented with a helpless tone.
"Pride is preferable to deceit," the little girl retorted, playfully making a face at him. "Who was it that warned me to be cautious before?"
"I was merely speaking the truth," Frank shrugged, acknowledging her point.
"The truth? Like when you were deceiving dear Julia?" Angela questioned, her tone filled with accusation.
"My dear, it's unfair to make such slanderous statements. Julia and I are merely good friends. We mostly exchange letters, rarely engaging in phone calls. Our discussions revolve around literature and philosophy. Your accusations hold no merit," Frank defended himself.
Just good friends? It was such an old and worn-out excuse. They had already reached the point of addressing each other as "dear." Why continue to hide the true nature of their relationship? Did they think Angela was an oblivious child? Did they believe she knew nothing about their connection in Los Angeles?
Angela regarded Frank with a disdainful gaze, tilting her head in a display of contempt. Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and walked toward Grandfather.
"Hello, dear Chrissie, is acting in movies enjoyable?" Grandfather inquired, his smile warm and inviting.
The little girl was taken aback and playfully stuck out her tongue. "Did you really need to ask?"
"Why? Because I'm an old stubborn man?" Grandfather burst into laughter.
"No, of course not. I was worried you might be upset... that I returned to London without visiting you," Angela responded hesitantly.
"To be honest, I was a bit disappointed, so you'll need to make it up to me," Grandfather replied mischievously, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Angela internally rolled her eyes, fully aware of his implications. She inquired, "Indeed, if I recall correctly it is scheduled for tomorrow evening, right?"
"Okay, okay, I promise I won't do this again next time. Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I'm saying it in advance so you shouldn't be mad at me anymore... Please, I didn't mean to upset you... If you keep pushing, I might break down right here in the airport lobby. Do you really want me to cry in front of everyone?... I know I love you too, Jessie, but... before I hang up, I need to say... I need to say... Jessie, I miss you so much, really!"
Click. Angela let out a deep sigh after ending the call. Damn it, that feeling resurfaced once more. I just wanted to express "I miss you," so why is my heart racing like this?
The young girl made her way back to the VIP lounge and settled down beside her parents. The flight had been delayed momentarily due to heavy snowfall. She picked up what appeared to be the latest issue of Rolling Stone, as claimed by its cover.
In truth, it had been available for quite some time. However, to her delight, there was an entire section dedicated to reviews of her three songs. The page boasted a striking red background adorned with a prominent black silhouette and a prominent white question mark at its center.
The reviews presented a mix of negative and positive comments, with the majority of criticism focusing on the lyrics and composition. However, there was unanimous acclaim for her exceptional singing ability.
Among the reviews, one in particular stood out: "Immensely perfect, even the flaws are flawlessly executed. Yes, there may be some shortcomings, but Miss AM artfully weaves them into the songs, bestowing these imperfections with a distinct charm. Truly remarkable."
Such high praise left Angela feeling somewhat unsettled. It all seemed too surreal. Perhaps she should seek out more opinions from Billboard? Regrettably, she couldn't purchase a copy at the moment, so she would have to wait until her return from London after the New Year to discover more.
However, when it came to the young girl on Christmas Day, Angela couldn't help but wonder if she truly was Scarlett Johansson. Unlike Lindsay Lohan, Angela had never witnessed Scarlett's childhood, and Scarlett lacked any distinctive features like Lindsay's red hair.
Well, it was best to let go of such thoughts. What did it matter, after all? Instead, Angela focused on the upcoming New Year in London, where her strict great-grandfather, the Duke, would surely hold her accountable. It was enough to give her a headache.
...
As Angela woke up groggily, she found herself already in the car. It was rare for her to fall asleep in her father's arms.
"Hey, Dad, have we arrived?" The little girl yawned and sluggishly sat up, her eyes still half-closed as if she longed to return to sleep.
"Wow, sleepyhead. Your dad carried you off the plane and into the car, and you've been snoozing the entire time. Looks like you're still half-asleep," a familiar voice chimed in, causing Angela to startle and instantly open her eyes. "Uncle Frank?!"
"It's me. Surprise, surprise!" Frank chuckled from the driver's seat.
"As long as you're not Butler Gerald, it's all good," Angela sighed with relief, still yearning to snuggle back into her father's arms. However, her mother had already lifted her up.
"Chris, you misspoke just now," Elena remarked while adjusting her collar, giving Angela a meaningful look.
Angela playfully stuck out her tongue, choosing not to respond. She had momentarily forgotten that she was in England, specifically London. She had accompanied her mother to her grandfather's house, which meant that certain protocols—such as proper etiquette—had to be strictly observed.
"My dear sister, when did you become so formal, just like Dad?" Frank called out from the front, his tone teasing.
"Frank, it's not about formality. There are certain etiquettes that should always be upheld," Elena replied, emphasizing the importance of proper conduct.
Frank shrugged, muttering under his breath, "This is quite unlike you from when you escaped." Of course, he made sure to keep his words low, aware of the potential consequences if Elena were to overhear.
Upon their arrival at Albert Manor, it was approaching 5 o'clock, and darkness was descending upon the sky. The manor had been adorned with a dazzling array of lights, and the Christmas decorations had been replaced with vibrant New Year's ornaments, casting a beautiful spectacle against the snowy white landscape.
As soon as Angela stepped out of the car, the air filled with barking sounds, and two sizable sheepdogs came running toward her. Angela couldn't help but giggle as she clapped her hands in delight, immediately opening her arms.
One of the sheepdogs eagerly leaped into her embrace, happily wagging its tail and attempting to shower her with affectionate licks.
The little girl squealed with joy, playfully dodging around, while the other sheepdog, slightly slower, circled around her, whimpering softly and rubbing against her legs in a show of adoration.
"Okay, Pluto, Bobby, enough! Stop!" the little girl called out multiple times, and the two large dogs finally halted their playful antics, obediently standing by her side.
"No wonder these two fellows were racing so energetically. It seems my little angel has arrived," spoke the voice of an elderly yet resonant man. A slightly balding, white-haired gentleman with a walking stick approached.
Unlike the calm and composed demeanor of Grandfather Kleist Mason, Grandfather Clark Albert exuded a more outgoing nature. Accompanying him was Gerald, the black-suited butler, whose lips curved slightly upwards, giving off an appearance of serenity. Those familiar with him, however, knew that it was merely a façade.
Angela felt the desire to approach the old man and embrace him, but a moment of hesitation held her back. Eventually, she chose to remain where she stood, crossing her right leg behind her left and delicately lifting an imaginary corner of her skirt, lowering her body in a display of courtesy.
The old man paused, his laughter filling the air. "What's this? When did you start greeting me in such a manner, my dear?"
The little girl playfully stuck out her tongue, momentarily at a loss for words. Fortunately, her mother stepped forward and embraced the old man. "Happy New Year, Father."
"Happy New Year, Father-in-law," Jared stepped forward and warmly shook hands with the old man. While he may have contrasted with his composed father, he shared a close bond with his lively father-in-law, resulting in an intriguing dynamic.
Guided by the old man, the family stepped into the manor. In stark contrast to Grandfather's mansion in New York, the entire estate was enveloped in a classic English style.
From the intricately designed doors and windows to the elegant drapes and nooks, every detail exuded a captivating antique charm. The centerpiece was the grand fireplace, radiating warmth and adding to the overall ambiance.
Mom's siblings, or more precisely her younger brothers and sisters, had all returned early, except for the youngest sister, Winnie, who remained in Athens. Angela joyfully greeted the elders, appreciating one of the advantages of Western culture. Regardless of their actual relationship, as long as they belonged to the same generation as her parents, males were universally addressed as "Uncle" and females as "Aunt," conveniently avoiding any complications or confusion.
In general, the atmosphere within the family was more pleasant compared to their experiences in New York. It wasn't that the ambiance at Grandfather's house was negative, but there had been a time when Mom and the family had clashed due to her love for Dad, resulting in her storming out in anger.
However, she eventually managed to reconcile with her grandfather in a genuine and heartfelt manner. In contrast, Dad had maintained a distant relationship with his own father, seldom engaging in face-to-face conversations.
Nevertheless, one inevitable aspect remained—a pre-dinner prayer. Despite the fact that the little girl had been baptized—how else would she have a godfather—her faith was nominal, and it was evident that she was not a devout believer.
Moreover, her parents had exhibited a rebellious streak during their youth. While they identified as Christians, they were not particularly enthusiastic about attending church services or engaging in religious rituals.
However, the two elderly men held different religious beliefs—one devoutly followed Judaism, while the other was a devout Christian—and their expectations in this matter were quite strict, especially for her maternal Grandfather. As a nobleman, he adhered to numerous protocols, which were typically manageable on regular days but were essential to be observed during holidays.
Confronted with the enticing scent of smoked fish, ham, cheese, and mashed potatoes spread across the expansive table, the little girl couldn't help but feel her mouth water. However, she had to resist the temptation and maintain a proper posture on the bench, joining in the collective prayer with everyone else.
Following that, with the assistance of the servants, she delicately picked up her food and consumed it in small, refined bites, exuding an air of grace and elegance. Ah, if only she had managed to eat something during the plane journey instead of sleeping through the entire duration.
The one consolation for the gathered individuals was that Grandfather's displeasure was relatively restrained. He had expressed a desire for a glass of red wine, but the butler promptly removed the bottle.
"I'm afraid you cannot partake in wine, not even a sip," the butler stated politely yet resolutely.
Grandfather had little to say or do in response. He muttered a few words under his breath, shrugged his shoulders, and let the matter rest. Mr. Gerald had been his loyal companion since childhood, growing up alongside him.
As the evening progressed, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Positioned before the crackling fireplace, the family members formed small clusters, engaging in intriguing conversations. If anyone wished to watch television, they were welcome to retreat to their respective rooms; the living room was reserved for meaningful exchanges.
As the eldest granddaughter, Angela naturally garnered more attention. Her innate affinity extended to animals as well, captivating the hearts of creatures such as the two large dogs and the horses residing in the stable.
Presently, Grandfather's snow-white Persian cat rested contentedly in her arms, its eyes squinting in relaxation. This tiny kitten held a special place in Grandfather's heart, always remaining faithfully by his side. Even attempts by others to engage with the feline were met with a dismissive gaze.
"This is truly unfair. Why does Juju always prefer to be by your side?" Frank remarked, attempting to playfully stroke the cat's chin, only to be promptly swatted away by the naturally sly little feline.
"What's the matter, Uncle Frank? Are you feeling jealous of a tiny kitten now?" Angela remarked with a mischievous grin, as she continued to tenderly scratch Juju's chin. The cat responded with a contented meow, leaving Frank with a wry expression.
"A proud little feline," Uncle Frank commented with a helpless tone.
"Pride is preferable to deceit," the little girl retorted, playfully making a face at him. "Who was it that warned me to be cautious before?"
"I was merely speaking the truth," Frank shrugged, acknowledging her point.
"The truth? Like when you were deceiving dear Julia?" Angela questioned, her tone filled with accusation.
"My dear, it's unfair to make such slanderous statements. Julia and I are merely good friends. We mostly exchange letters, rarely engaging in phone calls. Our discussions revolve around literature and philosophy. Your accusations hold no merit," Frank defended himself.
Just good friends? It was such an old and worn-out excuse. They had already reached the point of addressing each other as "dear." Why continue to hide the true nature of their relationship? Did they think Angela was an oblivious child? Did they believe she knew nothing about their connection in Los Angeles?
Angela regarded Frank with a disdainful gaze, tilting her head in a display of contempt. Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and walked toward Grandfather.
"Hello, dear Chrissie, is acting in movies enjoyable?" Grandfather inquired, his smile warm and inviting.
The little girl was taken aback and playfully stuck out her tongue. "Did you really need to ask?"
"Why? Because I'm an old stubborn man?" Grandfather burst into laughter.
"No, of course not. I was worried you might be upset... that I returned to London without visiting you," Angela responded hesitantly.
"To be honest, I was a bit disappointed, so you'll need to make it up to me," Grandfather replied mischievously, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Angela internally rolled her eyes, fully aware of his implications. She inquired, "Indeed, if I recall correctly it is scheduled for tomorrow evening, right?"
