Eunoia | Logan Howlett

03

Evangeline arrives at the grand mansion a few minutes early, taking a moment to steady herself before she rings the doorbell. The estate is sprawling, with manicured lawns and a driveway that seems to stretch on forever. It's a far cry from the usual places she finds herself in, but she's learned to adapt quickly to different environments. The door swings open, and a butler greets her with a polite nod, ushering her inside without a word.

The interior of the mansion is just as grand as the exterior. The floors are polished marble, and the walls are adorned with tasteful artwork. Evangeline follows the butler through a series of hallways until they reach a sunlit sitting room.

"Mrs. Carlisle will be with you shortly," The butler says before quietly retreating.

Evangeline takes a seat on a plush sofa, glancing around the room. The decor is elegant and understated, a reflection of old money and refined taste. She hears the soft click of heels on the marble floor and looks up to see an older woman entering the room. Mrs. Carlisle is in her late sixties, with silver hair neatly styled and a kind, if somewhat weary, expression.

"Good afternoon, my dear," Mrs. Carlisle says, her voice warm, "I hope you don't mind, but I've had some coffee prepared for us."

"That sounds lovely," Evangeline replies, standing to greet her.

They exchange polite smiles as Mrs. Carlisle takes a seat across from her.

A maid enters with a tray, setting down a pot of coffee, cream, sugar, and a selection of delicate pastries. Mrs. Carlisle pours two cups, handing one to Evangeline with a gentle smile.

"I'm so glad you could come," Mrs. Carlisle says, her eyes softening as she takes a sip of her coffee, "I've been looking forward to this."

Evangeline nods, returning the smile, "I'm happy to be here."

They settle into an easy conversation, the warmth of the coffee and the softness of the pastries creating a cozy atmosphere. Mrs. Carlisle speaks with a gentle cadence, her voice carrying the weight of a life well-lived but also a deep undercurrent of sadness.

"My husband, God rest his soul, was a wonderful man," Mrs. Carlisle says, her eyes misting slightly, "We were married for forty-five years. It's been difficult without him."

Evangeline listens attentively, her heart aching for the woman. She knows the pain of loss all too well. Her mother, Marta, had been her rock, her guiding star. Losing her to cancer had left a void that no amount of time could fill.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Evangeline says softly, reaching out to touch Mrs. Carlisle's hand, "It sounds like you had a beautiful life together."

Mrs. Carlisle smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, "We did. We truly did. But now, it's just me. My children... they're gone too. And the house feels so empty."

Evangeline squeezes her hand gently, her professional facade slipping as she feels a surge of empathy, "That must be incredibly hard."

"It is," Mrs. Carlisle admits, her voice trembling slightly, "But having someone to talk to, even just for a little while, makes it easier. It makes the house feel a little less empty."

Evangeline nods, her heart breaking for the lonely woman in front of her. She knows she's supposed to maintain a certain level of detachment, but it's impossible not to feel a connection. They sit in companionable silence for a moment, sipping their coffee and enjoying the quiet.

Mrs. Carlisle suddenly brightens, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips, "Do you enjoy music, Evangeline?"

"I do," Evangeline replies, intrigued.