[BOOK #1][COMPLETED]
In the quaint village of Eldenhaven, time seems to stand completely still. Oliver Morgan's life has always revolved around his modest family shop, Morgan's Fresh Essentials.
With his ailing mother's care and running the shop, O...
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"In moments of turmoil, even the simplest acts, like brewing a cup of tea, can feel like anchoring rituals in a sea of uncertainty."
—
THERE WAS A LARGE PART OF HIMSELF that deeply hated what he had done, or well, in fact not done. His mother, Mrs. Morgan, was all too happy and seemed to welcome Theodore in. They are still in there now, talking about God only knows what.
"How about a cup of tea, dear boy?" Theodore had said, and somehow. Here he was, making them, making him, a Goddamned tea: three sugars and double milk. Sure buddy.
He didn't understand it and probably never could fully understand why after all these months of his mother seeming to just waste away in her bed. Feeling down and depressed about herself and her situation, he could understand that. But somehow, the sight of seeing this man, Theodore, she all of a sudden got a great big smile on her face.
Had her depression gone?
Had he already helped her?
Wait!! Who the hell is this man?
As Oliver was stirring the sugar and milk into the teacup, he heard a door open and close behind him before heavyset footsteps.
Theodore.
"My dear boy, Oliver." He said from behind him. Turning around, a hot teaspoon was still in his hand. "Your mother is extremely unwell. She is going to need a lot of care if she is to get better."
Theodore came further into the kitchen and placed his hands on the kitchen counter. Leaning forward, eyes remaining on Oliver's the entire time. "I think it would be best that I stay here for a couple of days to make sure she gets the immediate care she needs." He says.
I'm sorry, what? Does he think he is staying here? Staying here with me and my mother? No, thank you!
Oliver dropped the cooling teaspoon onto the tiled kitchen floor. "Stay?" He said. "You can't stay here. No. Sorry, that's not possible."
The thoughts and possibilities along with all those little anxieties fluttered around in Oliver's head. Unsure what to do he bent down to grab the dropped teaspoon.
There is no conceivable way that this creepy old fedora-wearing gentleman is staying anywhere near him or his mother. Firstly, that damned smile and chuckle is enough to get him locked up. Secondly, he had only just met the man as he entered his shop moments ago.
Moments ago, sure, but it felt longer to him.
Sure, he had been asking for some help with looking after his mother. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad thing. But then again, could he really trust this man? This man that he had only just met.
But was he already having a good impact on his mother? It seemed to him—even if he didn't want to admit it—that he was doing what he said he would. Help his mother and the shop.
Maybe this was right. Maybe he could trust this man. True, he is fucking creepy. But aren't a large portion of old men? He could just be a regular old man. But what ordinary old man walks themselves into someone's life, claiming they know all about them and their situation? Claiming to help with everything.
But that shouldn't matter; the fact he wants to stay here is out of the damned question. No sir. There is no way that he would be staying here in the apartment above the shop.
I don't trust him, but if my mother does, he can come around when I'm there to supervise. Then and only then would he be able to look after my mother. Hell no, no way is he staying anywhere near him.
What would he even know about looking after his mother? Yes, sure, he was able to somehow guess that she had cancer but that was gone now. The doctors had said so themselves.
No. There is no possible way that this man knows how to take care of his mother like he knows how to. Plus she was his mother, he had to take care of her. It was his role in the family now.
"Look, I'll speak to my mom about you taking some of the care duties for her. But. . . but you can't stay here. No, I'm sorry." Oliver returned himself to the task of stirring the teas. Finishing and dropping the teaspoon into the bowl in the sink.
Theodore chuckled, again with that sinister undertone. "Oliver, your mother has asked me to. Everything is fine. Don't worry about it." He grinned over to him.
His mother asked him to? That doesn't seem right at all. Why would she do such a thing? Then again she did all of a sudden seem to perk up when Theodore arrived. What in the world is going on?
He'd need to confirm all this with his mother before letting all this slide and as Theodore says for him to not "worry about it".
"One moment please," Oliver says to Theodore as he walks straight past him and down the hallway into his mother's bedroom.
Pushing the bedroom door open, allowing a high-pitch creak to draw out with it, he peered into and around the room. Everything seemed normal, in all the right places. He looked over towards his mother, she was asleep now. Snoring away as she always did.
"Well, I guess I'm staying for a few days," Theodore says walking up along the hallway towards him. "I'll just go and get my things settled in the spare room before I check on your mother again."
