The Summer Away - Chris Evans Fanfiction

Chapter 4

Mr. Evans was rich and when I say rich, I don't just mean rich, I mean very rich. Where he got his money? Very simple. When he was 20, he inherited his father's run-down hotel and worked as hard as he could to make something of it and his name. It wasn't easy, whoever said it was easy probably didn't know the whole story. I didn't even know the whole story yet I understood just how difficult it must have been to bring an hotel, ranked one of the lowest from the ground where it was to the sky. By 24, he had not only given the hotel a new place in the heart of the rich, but he had created a chain of hotels. And after he got married at 26, he opened his first restaurant, which was followed by many other restaurants. All of these had thrown Mr. Evans up to be one of the richest men in the country. Even with all his achievements, wealth and awards, he still didn't relent and he just worked harder, earning him money. This was the reason I wasn't so shocked when I found out that he had a beach house in North Carolina. Hell, if the man told me he had a house on the moon, I would believe. The revelation of his property in North Carolina had me wondering just how many other places he had properties in.

When Mr. Evans mentioned that 'we' were going on a vacation for Camy's summer break, I assumed that 'we' was only referring to him and his daughter. I thought that he was taking his daughter on a holiday for a father-daughter bonding time, and that I was simply going to be in the house, having a time of my life alone and with no real work to do. But after packing Camy's pink suitcase and dropping it downstairs with my boss, he kept looking around the floor as if something was missing.

"Did I forget something sir?" I also looked around, trying to find out if there was something he asked me to bring that I was forgetting.

"Well if you want to wear the same clothes for the whole time we would be spending at Duck, then I guess you aren't forgetting anything." He looked me up and down as if judging what I had on.

"What...Sir?" I choked on my words for no reason at all. "Am I coming with you sir?"

"I mean you are Camy's caretaker." He paused, as if knowing that the nickname just didn't sound write in his mouth. If it sounded right or not, Camille just didn't care as she looked up at him with adoring eyes.

"It would only be reasonable that you tagged along, I'm sure Camille would like that." I nodded my head before sprinting up the stairs to get ready and pack my suitcase. Sure, I had wanted to stay alone at home, but there was no way staying at home could be compared to a vacation, even if I was working during said vacation.

So there we were, standing in front of a glass beach house and I seemed to be the only one who was surprised. The beach house looked like a pent house, only that it wasn't on the uppermost part of any building. From the outside and through the top to bottom glass, I could see the living room. Its walls were painted a light shade of gray, almost white and had white chairs. I didn't think of my boss to be a man who tolerated white as almost everything in his house was black or had a dark shade. This made me believe that whoever chose the color of the interior, it was not him. There was a very elegant chandelier hanging from the ceiling right in the middle of the room and I just wanted to grab onto the chandelier and play with it. It looked so pretty. The living room looked so clean and tidy and I knew it was all thanks to the lady who had come to pick us up from the airport. She was a nice old lady, with silver hair and wrinkled skin but she still looked classy. Everything connected to this man seemed to have some sense of class attached to it. I was the exception, I had zero class on me whatsoever.

Mr. Evans started up the stairs that led to the porch and into the houses and I did the same, pulling my box and Camille's box behind me. The seven years old girl had run up into the house, the moment we stepped out of the matte black car. She had been so excited about coming here as it had been a while since she last came to her father's beach house. She just couldn't stop jumping and moving as she waited for us to finally get here.

At the glass door, I tapped my legs a few times on the 'Welcome' doormat to get off any sand that had been on my shoes. The house was basically in the middle of yards of sand that there was no way you could walk to it without some sand getting in your shoes. As I moved to go inside, my leg somehow got stuck and tangled in the doormat and I found myself heading for the floor. I wasn't clumsy, but when something like this happened, it was never good. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the pain that came with hitting the floor but it never came. Instead, as cliche as it sounds, I felt a pair of hands wrap around my body and stop my fall. Even still in the arms of this person, I still refused to open my eyes basking obviously in his warmth and his intoxicating cologne. I opened my eyes eventually and looked up to see Mr. Evans looking down at me and contrary to his usual nature, he didn't look upset, not at all. He instead had this look on his face that I couldn't decipher part of me wished it was want, part of me hoped that for just one second, he looked at me and he wanted me, but I knew that my wish was far fetched. I set me back on my feet and cleared his throat before turning to go inside.

"Thank you." I muttered so quietly, I was not so sure he heard me but he did and he gave me a nod in response. Walking inside, I felt myself get enveloped in the coziness of the place. It was so warm and homely that even if it was summer and hot outside, I just wanted to wrap myself in a thick blanket and drink a cup of hot cocoa.

"Come see my room. Anna. It's so pretty." Camille appeared in front of me from nowhere and began pulling on the hand that held her suitcase. She was evidently out of breath but she still wasn't stopping anytime soon. She was so hyper and I knew it couldn't just be because she was coming here after so long. I think it was also because she was coming here with her father.

"Calm down Camy. We've got a lot of time, there's no need to rush." I reasoned with her as I walked behind her to check out her room. From the living room, we walked towards the hallway which add a number of art works hung on its walls. I was an art person, and I could tell that the mode of painting was similar to the ones I had seen in the sketchbooks and canvass in the basement back in New York. Camy had told me that her father loved to paint adthat he always painted her before I came, but he stopped after a while. She wasn't so happy that he stopped, but she cold do nothing about it. We turned a corner and began walking up the stairs into another hallway. Right at the top of the staircase, she stopped and looked from left to right. I also looked and saw that while the left was a hall with about 3 doors, the right was a greyish wall with only one door.

"That." She pointed to the right "...is daddy's room. And that..." she pointed to the hall "That was supposed to be my room, and my sister's room, but before mummy left, she didn't have my sister's so the other rooms are very empty. My room is the room with the pink door so you can't miss it." She was speaking so fast that I feared she would pass out from losing her breath. I looked towards the left, and true to her words, there was a really bright pink door standing out amongst the dull grey.

"Okay, let's go to your room." I prompted her and she began to walk as quick as she could to her pinkish bright room. Looking at her father's door one last time, I began to walk with her.

Her name was written boldly on her door, with the colors of the rainbow and with lots of glitter. It didn't take a genius to know that she designed it herself. While her design looked eccentric, I really hoped she didn't do the same for her room, or at least I hoped they didn't let her. She pushed her door open and stepped inside, waiting for me to join her. I dropped my suitcase outside of the room and dragged hers behind me and into her room. I looked around her room and I couldn't help but think, she was right, her room was very pretty. It was like it had been designed just for a princess and she was the perfect princess for this room. The walls were a dull shade of pink but it still stood out, the ceiling was pure white, with a bed bigger than mine standing in the middle. By the window was one of those bed-like couches that was filled to the brim with all the colorful stuffies there were in this world. She had her own walk-in closet but not a bathroom. I understood then why she seemed to like the beach house more than the other house.