The Winchester [ON HOLD]

chapter one

***Before you read I would like to inform you that this is the edited version. Somethings change like names and places but if you have read the original one, rest assured that everything that Happened in the original first chapter, happens in this one.***

I maneuver  the dusty cloth over the newly polished violin.  My thumb slightly brushing over the beautifully carved name at the bottom of the instrument.

Dolly Wiggins.

My grandmother.  She was a star violinist in the Elite Musicians Program.  Probably the best.  Though I wouldn't know.  She passed away just about a month ago, before she could even tell me about the program.

The bell above the glass door jingled, signalling someone had walked in.  My eyes travelled toward the entrance as a man, in his mid-forties, walked in.  He strode in glossy black shoes and a navy button-up shirt. His hair swept away from his forehead with an infinite amount of hair gel.

He was obviously wealthy.

These people have been stopping by often.  Too often, for my liking. I sigh, unable to contain my passionate hatred for rich snobs.

He tapped his foot repeatedly on the velvet carpet, after a few minutes — him failing to acknowledge my presence yet, but maybe I'm just good at it — he strode over to the front desk and dinged the small bell on the table.  Twice.

I roll my eyes, starting climb down the ladder I was currently standing on, so I could reach the shelf that contain newly polished violins and I must say, I didn't do a bad job.  I started as slowly as I could, hoping one of my colleagues would attend him. 

I briefly glance at the back of the shop, voices ringed throughout the room as customers walked through the aisles of instruments, followed by the shop workers.

No one would attend him in such a busy state, anyways.

When I finally reached the maroon carpet, I flop the rag against my shoulder and continue narrow my eyes at the blonde across the room.

I've seen him before. Definitely.

"Ah, finally," His pale eyes met mine and his blunt expression turned emotionless.

He straightened himself, so he would keep his authority rightly placed above mine as I walked closer to him.

I smile. "Welcome to Walden's Music shop, how may I help you?"

"Yes, thank you," He said. "I'm concerned about your violins, my daughters are intrigued by them." His voice was thick with an Australian accent. 

Greendale rarely gets foreigners — especially from Australia.

I shake my thoughts away. I'm already begining to zone out. "Of course, follow me please."

I lead the mysterious man toward the wooden shelf, where the violins were lining the edge.  If I look up further, I would catch my grandmother's violin. In the middle of them all.

Glancing at him, my hands clap together. "Well," I sigh. "There they are. Which one has catched your eye...?"

"Preston. Robert Preston." He said, his eyes glued to the instruments before us.

Preston.

"Right. Mr. Preston, interested in any of them yet?"

He pointed. "That one." He turnes to me. "What's it called?"

My eyes catch the violin he was pointing at.  My breath caught in my throat.  The French.  I nod, even though I want to believe it's out of stock.