Present Day
Aaaannd that brings us to this moment. So here I am, standing in California. In front of my grandmother's gigantic house- no, mansion, with my jaw practically touching her extremely bougie driveway. Mamie had someone pick us up from the airport as soon as we got there, her chauffeur apparently, leading us through a gated neighborhood with bigger houses than I've ever seen in my life.
"So, Mister, what's your name?" I question the driver from the backseat of a very nice Rolls-Royce.
"My name is Bernard, Miss Violet. I have been Miss Courtier's chauffeur for about 10 years now." The old man answers with a kind smile. Bernard looks about 50 years old, and he has vibrant green eyes that contrast against his golden toned skin. His short black hair is littered with gray strands, and he looks very professional in his suit.
"Oh, you can just call me Violet. It's nice to meet you Bernard," I say with a small smile, adding, "Do you mind if I call you Bernie?"
"No, Miss, I do not mind." Bernard replies with a small chuckle. I offer a smile in response.
As a comfortable silence falls over the car, I reach over my sleeping mother to grab my cream colored tote bag. I pull out my phone from the bag, checking my social media and messages.
0 messages.
I guess I really won't have anyone to miss from New York.
In this moment, I realize that I really won't miss much from NY except for the apartment. I look over to my side, where Mom is asleep and leaning against the window. I had been so anxious on the plane because change doesn't do well by me. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. At least I could give it a shot. I owe that much to myself, don't I?
So much is changing, and so much is going to change, but will I be able to make it through?
My thoughts are interrupted by the car stopping. I put my phone away into my tote bag, and peer out the window.
Woah. I almost forgot that Mamie is a literal millionaire.
As I gape at Mamie's mansion through the window, Bernie comes to the side of the car and opens the door for me. I thank him and I wake up Mom, to which she grumbles, but we step out of the car with my tote bag on my shoulders.
It's been so long since I've been to Mamie's house, the last time was when I was just 4 years old. I still saw Mamie every year though, she would visit for Thanksgiving and Christmas. If I think about it, Mamie has always wanted us to come live with her. I wonder what changed to make it actually happen? But after Dad- never mind. Tears prick at my eyes.
My thoughts are interrupted (again), but this time by Mamie.
"Violet! Oh how I've missed you! Come, give me a hug!" Mamie exclaims as she walks out of the front door and down the driveway towards me. As always, Mamie looks elegant and much too lively for her age.
"Mamie!" I practically shout as we meet and she pulls me into her frail, yet comforting and firm arms. After our hug, Mamie goes to hug Mom and they begin to catch up. I don't even really know why though, considering the fact that they call each other almost daily. We have always kept in touch with Mamie, despite the long distance.
"Violet, dear, let me get Theresa to show you to your room!" Mamie says after she and Mom finish their conversation. I nod and smile in response, even though I have no clue who Theresa is, and all three of us walk through the front door into the house. As I enter the foyer, I am immediately stunned. It's beautiful and luxurious, but I wouldn't have expected anything else from Mamie. Everything expensive that I own has come from her.
"Hello Miss Courtier. How may I help you?" A woman in her late-forties asks. I'm not particularly shocked by Mamie's use of housemaids. Come on, (1) she's rich, and (2) she's aging and living in a big home all alone.
"Good morning, Theresa," Mamie greets, adding, "Could you please show Violet to her room?"
"Of course, do you need anything else, Miss Courtier?" Theresa responds with a smile.
"No, that's all. Thank you, Theresa." Mamie responds, returning a smile.
"Of course, ma'am." Theresa says, turning to me. Mom and Mamie walk off, and I faintly hear them talking about Mom's room and a study that Mamie prepared for her.
"Hi, Theresa. I'm Violet," I introduce myself, adding, "so, which way are we going?".
"Hello, Miss Violet. We will be going this way." Theresa answers, gesturing to a grand, fancy marble staircase. I nod in response and follow her up the stairs. We walk through a hallway and she stops at a door that is slightly ajar.
"This is your room, Miss Violet." Theresa says, smiling, and starts walking away.
"Thank you!" I call after her, and walk into the room.
The room is gorgeous. And I mean stunning. There is a chandelier in the center of the ceiling, and in all honesty, it seems more expensive than all of my organs combined. The room is beautiful and spacious, which gives me the idea that I'll have enough space to practice ballet in here. There is a large desk against the wall next to a glass door leading to a balcony. The bed is also gorgeous, no surprise there. The four post canopy bed sits in between two bedside tables with a storage bench at the foot of the bed. Across from the bed, there is a large dresser with a Flatscreen TV sitting on top of it. Closer to me, there's a couch and two seats surrounding a coffee table. Across from the coffee table there's a walk in closet, which you can see through, due to a glass wall, and across from the walls of storage space lie a vanity.
Woah. This is all so much. I am absolutely and utterly in love with this room.
After looking around the room some more, I discover that I have my own bathroom, and also a ballet barre which I didn't notice before. I'll have to thank Mamie, because this is all really great. This room is probably the size of our entire apartment in NY.
A large box and suitcase in the corner of the room catch my attention, and I recognize them as my belongings that I have packed for the move. I really don't own that much stuff, so I didn't have to pack much.
The box is filled with decorations that I had previously used in the apartment, and I begin to unpack the decor and place it around the room.
When I finish, I unpack my suitcase and hang my clothes in the closet.
"Damn, I'm tired as fuck." I sigh as I flop onto the bed, having changed from a pair of jeans and a sweater into sweatpants and a tank top.
"I second that." A deep, yet bright, voice says from the doorway. My head snaps in the direction of the voice so fast, I'm convinced I've got whiplash.
I'm aware of the fact that I'm staring when I see a very attractive boy around my age leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.
"Hi Violet," He says with a big smile and a wave. "I'm Elliot Devineaux."
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Author's Note
I'm working overtime writing these chapters lmaoo
Enjoy!
As always, vote and comment!
- Liv -
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