Charlotte

03 // apple cinnamon.

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03 // apple cinnamon.

I was surprised that my beat up Toyota had managed to take me all the way to the Cavora household that was on the other side of town.

The house stood on a huge plot of land, and the house itself was pretty huge from the outside. I closed out of the text Shawna had sent me earlier with her address and parked my car in the long driveway.

It was night out, a bit late for dinner if you asked me, but I couldn't deny that I was starving. Out of all the houses on the quiet little block, the Cavora household was surely the brightest.

I stood in front of the two large mahogany doors and leaned over to ring the bell. I could hear the loud chime from the inside before both doors swung open to reveal an elegantly dressed Shawna. She wore a flowy, blue dress that exposed long and toned legs that led down to blue heels. Her bright, red hair flowed past her shoulders in natural waves.

I had decided on denim jeans, a cute blouse and a fashionable scarf.

"Why, come in!" Shawna exclaimed. "I'm so glad you could make it. I hope the drive wasn't too bad?"

"It was quite a drive, but surprisingly, my car made it," I replied, stepping into the warm house. The inside of the house was very large, and it smelled good like apple cinnamon.

"Speaking of that car," Shawna said, peeking her head through the doors once more to look at my old vehicle. "It doesn't look safe to drive. We'll have to make some compromises if the pregnancy is successful."

"But that's my baby!" I pleaded. "I've had that car for years now."

"And this," Shawna said, lightly placing her two manicured hands over my abdomen. "Is my baby."

I looked up at her. Her beautiful face was hard, indicating that the decision was final and there was no way that I would be driving that car again if I conceived.

"And what will I drive then?" I asked. 

"We have a third car that's having minor repairs being done on it right now. It will be free for you to use," she smiled. "The kitchen's this way."

I followed behind her down a long hall, the smell of food so potent that I could almost taste it on my tongue.

Several dishes of food were laid out on the counter in the spacious kitchen. Tossed salad, vegetable meatloaf and a bowl of mixed veggies.

"Healthy food," Shawna said, grabbing the bowl of salad. "Help me move these to the table?"

I would have preferred pork chops, mashed potatoes and maybe a side of mixed veggies, but this was all in attempt to eat healthy.

The dining area was attached to the kitchen. It consisted of a long, dark, brown table with a big chandelier right above.

"On your file it said you work at an art gallery,"  Shawna announced. She came from behind me with a pitcher of water with floating lemon slices. She set it down on the table. 

"Uh, yeah," I nodded. "I'm kind of into art," I replied.

"That's nice. My husband, Warren, loves art," she gushed.

Smart guy, I thought. "Speaking of your husband, did he cancel?" I asked, setting the table. His absence hadn't gone unnoticed.

"That, he did not," a deep British voice said, from the kitchen doorway. "Babe, what did you make?" he asked, his question directed at Shawna.