The Arrangement

27.1 | Birthday Condolences

The pattering of the heavy rain against the windowpane awoke Tracy from her sleep. It was her birthday. She yawned and rolled over to the empty side of the bed where Matthew had been last night. She began to question if it had all been a dream, but the faint aroma of amber musk mixed with cigarettes coated the sheets as proof that it wasn't.

As her eyes roamed over the nightstand, she saw an ornate stationary card placed at the edge with her name written beautifully in the center along with a medium-sized red box, blank CD in a sheer-blue CD case ("Play Me" written on the front), and an old, silver stereo. She reached over to grab the folded card, flipping it to read the note written in Matthew's calligraphic handwriting.

Tracy,

May this next year of your life be as remarkable as you are. Happy Birthday.

Sincerely,

Matthew

Tracy couldn't stop smiling as she read the note repeatedly, treasuring Matthew's words. Driven by curiosity, she reached for the red box, unveiling the Cartier logo inside the lid, and a rectangular stainless-steel watch beneath. Tracy was in awe; she knew of Cartier's fame and their luxurious jewelry, but never imagined she'd own a piece herself. She pulled out the folded paper within—a certificate of authenticity—describing the item as a vintage tank watch from the 1970s. Initially, the idea of the gift being for her seemed unbelievable, too extravagant. Yet, she gently removed it from the box, fastening it around her left wrist, and admired how the steel accentuated her skin.

Next, she retrieved the blank CD, rose from bed, placed it in the stereo, and pressed play. The first song was familiar; within a few bars, Tracy recognized it as the untitled piece Matthew had crafted and played the previous night. Her smile broadened and deepened as she listened, delighted that Matthew had shared the song with her. She soon found that the disc contained other tracks—six in total—none of which she had heard before. Each track carried a poignant, brooding quality, Matthew's emotions and artistry echoing profoundly through the speakers before her way downstairs, lured by the intensifying scent of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup.

"Miss Donovan, you're up!" Sebastian exclaimed, his bright smile a stark contrast to the gray, wet atmosphere outside the windows. "Happy Birthday!"

"Thank you!" Tracy replied, her spirits lifted by his excitement. She approached the island, greeted by an array of breakfast foods: pancakes, eggs, bacon, and biscuits. The room was filled with the enticing aromas of the food, complemented by the robust smell of coffee.

As Sebastian cheerfully prepared a plate for Tracy, she took a seat on the barstool beside Troy, who ate on, ignoring her. Sebastian coughed subtly, giving Troy a pointed look before handing Tracy her plate and offering her the syrup.

"Happy Birthday," Troy said dryly, barely looking up from his food.

"Thanks..." Tracy replied, her voice carrying a polite yet anxious undertone. She drizzled syrup over the pancakes, cut a piece, and savored it. The warm, fluffy texture and the richness of the flavor satisfied her taste buds. "This is amazing, Sebastian," she expressed with sincere gratitude. "Did you make all this?"

"No," Sebastian answered, a grin spreading across his face as he glanced at Troy. "Troy did."

Tracy's eyes widened in astonishment as she turned to Troy. "You can cook?" she inquired, her interest piqued.

"A little," he responded. "Is it really that surprising that an adult can cook?"

"No," she lied, trying to downplay her shock. "Thanks," she added.

"It's no big deal," Troy replied, his tone nonchalant as he continued to eat, seemingly unfazed by the compliment. Tracy savored another bite of the scrumptious pancakes, appreciating the kind gesture despite Troy's apparent indifference.