Wanderer 2.0, Book 1 Of The Wanderer Series

8• One Hell of a Pilot

While his children may be pills to swallow, he adored his grandchildren. Luna, at ten, was quite the little lady. She constantly corrected her grandpa on his ill practiced manners which tickled him to no end. Wynter, at seven, was far more intellectual than her cousins. That girl always arrived with a new subject she'd learned as if she'd gone off to college and came back with a degree in it. Half the time, Ivan just nodded along as if he understand her ramblings if only to salvage his dignity.

Evan, at ten, was turning out to be a bit too haughty just like his father before him, but there was undoubtedly a loneliness in his gaze that hurt Ivan deeply. Evan stepped into his father's shoes as man of the house, looking after his mother as Salem should be doing. Ivan worries for the boy. His childhood left his young life far too early, hardening him into a creature unbefitting of a kid his age. He spoke with the guests today as if he were an adult, as if he partook in the same adult things they all did. Part of Ivan was proud that he could keep up with his peers of a far greater age, another mourned what it meant.

Today, Evan even went as far as to shake Ivan's hand instead of hugging him like his two cousins had so enthusiastically done.

Selene was civil enough, if not a bit shallow, when she spoke to him. She wanted to gossip about what she'd read in the society papers, and didn't even bother with pleasantries.

Salem's wife, Cecelia, had also been there. Though she didn't interact much with anyone today except for tidying up her son's hair when no one was looking as per Evan's request. Cecelia's demeanor at the luncheon bothered Ivan. She's not exactly a lively creature to begin with, but today she had a gaze full of hurt and wrath.

Both of his children, and all of his grandchildren took after Ethel the most in appearance. Ethel had been quite the looker back in the day, with long black tresses and a sly smile. Why, Ivan can still recall the way his heart near leapt out of chest when he first laid eyes on that spitfire of a woman. She once was the epitome of the dream girl men desire. She had a quick wit and an acid tongue, beauty beyond measure and a love for adventure.

Ethel is less so like the girl she was these days, completely addicted to peacocking with high society and what others thought of her and their family. He can still see her though, on the back of his dark green Vespa as they zoomed along old country roads in Italy for their honeymoon. Ethel wouldn't dare these days.

He can't fault her though. Times change. People change. He's not exactly that mischief maker who debated his professors in high school as he preened under the attention of the schoolgirls drooling over his bad boy demeanor. He use to be so full of himself, never doubting his ability to charm the socks off a salesman. He'd wink at the girls when he'd pass them in the school corridors and whistle at the principal like he was a dog.

They've both grown up and been beaten down a time or two by life. Life likes to strip people of their optimism. Ethel at least still fixes herself up for him to this day and always somehow manages to have dinner on the table no matter the hour he finally gets in. It's the little things that keep a marriage intact.

Ivan swirls his whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl in a lackadaisical hypnotizing way, trying to take his mind off his long night and day. While today had been nothing if not stressful, he mourned the end of an era. The Elm Faction is officially retiring soon. All that's left to finalize the decision, is to wrap up their remaining cases and sign on the dotted line. It was his Commander's decision originally, but one by one the others followed his lead. They were getting old, Ivan himself in his sixties. They all had families and grandchildren to spoil, dogs to take for walks, and wives to coddle while they still can.