10th January 2015
Only two more months to go,
With Love, uncle Alexander.
Milira smiled to no one in particular as she stood in front of the iconic blue post boxes, reading a note her uncle had attached to a parcel he'd sent. She locked the post box and darted for one of the few places in the otherwise desolate Kelpmonth to grab anything worth eating. She wiped at her brow and crossed a lone street to a food cart known for its rainbow coloured slushies and proudly South African dishes but found a, closed for the day, note. She breathed in deep, gathering her patients. Soon, everything will change, Milira reminded herself, darting underneath the overhang of a shop but the shade provided her with little relief, the air thick and humid. Two more months, she continued to chant. For now, she'd have to be satisfied with the office's shabby air-conditioning system. Hopefully today the infuriating system won't decide to break on them as it did a week ago.
However, none of the town's smothering shortcomings would matter in sixty days. She'll be able to bid it farewell and never look back. Her life would be rosier. Thus, spurred on by these thoughts, Milira turned the corner and pushed through the glass doors of her office building and headed up the dusty stairs towards the second floor.
At the door that read JDWondale Internet Company, she stilled for a moment. Her current job was no walk in the park, nor was it pleasing or a career choice on her part. The Wondale's, for short, was simply a bridge to her new future. She worked for them to accomplish one task only, save up enough money to get the hell out of town. If she continued to remind herself of this, then she got through her dreary days much faster.
Milira reached for the door.
John Wondale - the stick-figure sour patch and co-owner of JDW Internet Company- pulled open the door before her hand connected with the latch. She pulled back and met the dirty look John gave her through his immaculate glasses.
"Miss Davenport, where have you been?" John demanded, tapping his foot in annoyance.
"At lunch, Sir." Milira said with a clenched smile. She glanced at her watch. She was early, half an hour early to be exact.
He adjusted his glasses. "You're supposed to be available at all times today."
Milira withheld a scowl, and held her smile in place, losing her patience with John would do her no good. "I'm sorry, Sir, I wasn't aware of the matter."
John scoffed, narrowing his gaze on her, "Didn't Drake tell you?" he continued as if she was fabricating the facts. He didn't wait for her reply and waved an angry hand in her face, "No matter. Ready the finest china."
Milira nodded not bothering to enlighten John that they didn't have any fine china and watched him storm of with squared shoulders and an air of wintriness. She bit down on her lower jaw. Two more months. Milira shook her head in dismay and flung her weathered handbag onto her packed desk. Heaps of colourful sticky notes and files drifted towards the carpet.
"Dammit." She turned towards the kitchen, leaving the mess behind, her mantra slowly losing its endearing charm. Some days she needed an extra strong dosage of perseverance to carry on. Today, was one of those days and through it wasn't an oddity to see John riled up, the man made her blood boil. Unlike his brother, Drake Wondale, John found pleasure in raising hell in his wake. If not for Drakes pleasant manners, she would've allowed her raging piggies to storm John and eat him alive.
The view from the small kitchenette window provided her with a quiet scene of Kelpmonth. The main lane, Dup Nude Street, busied itself with nothing but tumbleweed as the town's residents were all either on vacation or locked in their homes trying to avoid the heat. She wouldn't miss the town, or its people. In her time on earth she made little friends. In Kelpmonth she never had future inhibitions. In school, Milira did well enough but she never found that special something which she could attach her dreams to. Before long, she was out of high school, and stuck without prospects of developing a better life. Within the span of a year, though, her life changed when she made the final decision to leave behind her mother and the town, she grew up in to move to her uncle's estate. An estate situated on beautiful, lush grounds just outside of a bustling city. There, she had a life. Friends, family, and prospects.
The mere idea brought a shiver of excitement to her world as she readied the supposed china set. Her plan after moving was vague but she knew one thing, she wanted to make something of her life, do something important, learn more about herself and in the end make her uncle and her mother proud. Perhaps even persuade her mother to leave Kelpmonth. With Alexander by her side she always felt empowered, and the possibilities endless.
The urge in her renewed itself. The heck with John! She wasn't about to allow him to stomp on her mood as he so often did, not today nor in the upcoming two months. She plastered a smile on her face as a dutiful PA would and gathered the tray in her hand, marching straight to Drake's office door.
With the bud of her shoe, Milira attempted a knock on the door.
"Come in." The booming voice of Drake drifted through the door, and Milira entered the room, using her back to open the door, careful not to spill the context on the tray.
Behind an enormous walnut desk, Drake sat watching her, his catchy grin turning her forced smile into a more natural and relaxing one. Compared to his Scrooge of a brother, Drake was a big-heart, husky man, whose kindness stretched as far as his belt buckle. She adored him for his innovation and love towards the citizens of the town. A town which was known for having penny size salaries, except when you worked for Drake Wondale.
Milira placed the tray onto the office table and held Drake's green-eyed focus. Sincerity and cheerfulness glinted in them; his grin spread to an open-mouthed smile as he jumped up from his chair.
"Thank you, child." Drake said, rounding the desk.
Milira nodded, "Would that be all?"
"Before you leave, let me introduce you to my cousin."
Milira turned around only to get a view of a man's backside as he gazed out through the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the town. I doubt he's seeing much through that layer of grime. No one bothered to keep any windows clean due to the winds. Here the buildings blended in with the sand-blanket environment. After copious effort on her part to keep the building clean, she gave up and embraced its russet mood.
As much as she wanted to escape, the sculpted back of the man who still hadn't turned around, piqued her curiosity. Whether because Kelpmonth had a lack of visitors to its town, or because of the feminine alert in her mind for admiration, she didn't know. His pressed suit clung to his broad shoulders while his silver-plated watch gleamed in the sunlight. Dark, almost midnight black hair, curved over his crisp collar as both of his hands were tucked away in his pants. She knew John and Drake shared the biggest amount of wealth in town, but the sheer elegance the man exuded was foreign to her and the town. No wonder John was extra touchy today. He wanted to impress the newcomer.
Milira watched and waited as Drake moved across the room, touching his cousin's shoulder and pulling his attention away from the window.
The man turned around, flashing her a lopsided smile which made her inner voice purr in admiration and admire she did, until her knees turned unsteady and her heart thumped against her rib cage. Don't get man-stricken, Mil. No matter how handsome the man was, spending time with any man would be a waste. When she left, she didn't need a man tying her down. Nevertheless, she enjoyed beauty when it crossed her path.
The man raised one eyebrow, a smug smile complementing the man's angular jaw while meeting her awed expression, a glint of knowing sparkling in his eyes. He was clearly aware of the attention he attracted. He pulled a relaxed hand out of his pocket before moving to loosen his tie.
The man paused in his actions. What laid in his mind, Milira couldn't read from looking alone. Despite his flawed personality, she sensed he had built walls around himself. From experience she learned people who acted approachable and looked approachable usually had the most baggage. She briefly wondered about his life as she traced the length of his angular fingers while he continued to keep her gaze. Mentally she shook her head, and pulled back an inch. The sooner she left the man's vicinity, the sooner her brain would refocus on its indented plans. Milira took the initiative and jutted out her hand in greeting.
Grey eyes, tense and magnetic surveyed her before accepting her greeting. His fingers were warm and inviting clamping around her hand without the promise of a quick release.
"Please to meet you." Milira said, surprised at the unsteadiness in her voice. Damn. If she had her mother's humor, she would give the man a pat on the back for doing a good job at being an attractive, drool-worthy man. Instead, she remained stiff as he nodded.
Drake cleared his throat, cutting into the silence Milira hardly acknowledged a moment ago. Milira stepped back, towards the door and to safety while Drake's face pulled into a grin, his eyes brightening up as he watched them with unspoken thoughts. She could see the hopefulness in Drake's eyes. From personal experience, she knew Drake loved to play matchmaker among everyone, but she wasn't going to be one of his conquests. Milira pulled her hand away from his. Men like him are a danger to a heart like mine.
Milira readied herself for exiting. "Anything else?"
Drake shook his head, "No, you're excused."
The words washed over her and relaxed her shoulders, she gave Drake's cousin a last nod and savoured the way his hand pulled through his hair. He returned the action, she took her cue, and left.
Milira was never more thankful to shut the door behind her and the mystery man. She swore under her breath and took deep calming breaths. One more minute with the Adonis and she would start to hyperventilate. She giggled at her own foolishness, what did the poor guy think of her, stumbling over her words and darting for the first exit?
The phone rang out as she bended down to pick up the scattered files and sticky notes, her smile still in place.
"JDWondale Internet Company, Drake Wondale's office, how may I help you?" she switched her voice to dead sophistication. The one she used for chanting the mantra of words, words she was sure would remain imprinted in her mind forever.
"Good day, may I please speak to Milira Davenport?" The man on the other end of the receiver sounded grave. Another client with Wi-Fi problems who didn't understand she was just the PA and not the contractor.
Keeping her cool, she said, "Speaking, how may I be of assistance?" Her eyes swept the cramped desk, searching for her notepad. From the tone of the man's voice she couldn't predict if he was a difficult or easy client.
"Miss Davenport as much as I hate to inform you via telephone but I'm afraid I must be the bearer of bad news, but-" the man took a shaky breath and Milira heard him cursing in strings. She rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to tell the client to keep his calm, but then he cleared his throat, "Just to clarify, you are the niece of Alexander Darken, correct?"
Milira felt her hands breaking out in a cold sweat, her heart dropping to the deepest pit of her stomach. She slumped down in her office chair. Her earlier excitement over her future came crashing down, swirling into a deep pit as her thoughts drifted towards cancelled plans and a ruined future.
"Miss Davenport are you still there?"
Milira licked her lower lip, the word she needed to say became almost impossible to utter, she heard it in her mind and commanded it to be said. "Correct."
The line buzzed with static, papers ruffled in the background. There were other noises. A loud ringing phone, some faded chatter, but none as clear as the strange man's voice. "My name is Dean Fletcher. I am in charge of your uncle's state of affairs. In the event of any happenings-"
Milira's mind halted, her instincts telling her nothing Dean Fletcher would say would result in any good. "Stop." She choked out. The idea of her world taking a different turn wasn't acceptable. She's always relied on her uncle. Always sought in him what she couldn't seek out in her mother. He was the father she never had. She never thought about a life without him. He's been her hero, the man who cleaned her bruises, wiped her tears, he was supposed to walk her down the aisle one day! What Dean implied - it simply couldn't be and yet, the air grew cold and the realization of Dean's words rang clear. Calm down. Maybe it was a simple document she needed to sign and maybe the man naturally spoke in grieved tones, but the word 'happenings' in Dean's words, destroyed those thoughts.
"I'm sorry, Miss Davenport, I'm afraid at-"
"Please don't say it." she pleaded. She shook her head side to side, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Denial. She denied it all. Her plans were close, almost in reach. Alexander had been fine when she spoke to him two days ago. Expressing how much, he too, looked forward to seeing her again. How could it be possible? How could he simply cease to exist? Why him? Why now?
Dean Fletcher cleared his throat, his tone firmer, "I truly am sorry, but at thirteen forty-five, your uncle suffered a fatal heart attack. Paramedics-"
"No, no, no!" She wailed. Her eyes trained on the clock beeping away on her computer screen as its digital letters ticked to two p.m. I didn't even get to say goodbye!
"Miss Davenport, I realize the impact of this tragic news but-"
"You don't know shit, Mr. Fletcher! He's my dad in everything but blood! How can you act so impersonal?" A sob racked through her body, "How can you expect less of me? I- we- he had years ahead of him!"
A tightness in her chest made it hard to breath, her chin trembled and the world slowed until everything blurred together and her mind begged her to run to the darkest graves, bury herself and never set foot in society again. Life would never be the same without her uncle.
Vaguely she was aware of Drake's office door opening but she couldn't be bothered to acknowledge it. She didn't worry if they fired her or saw her with makeup running down her face. Nothing of that mattered.
A hand snapped in front of her face.
"Good grief, stop acting so unprofessional." John chided.
Milira's teeth clenched together until she twisted around in her chair, the phone still clutched in her tear-stained hand.
"Shut up you ignorant prick!"
She didn't pause to relish John's taken aback face, but instead her wobbling knees gave way beneath her and she crumbled to the floor as the man on the other end rambled off a last bit of information.
"The will stipulates that you need to be present for the read of the will, thus I've arranged for transportation to your uncle's estate." He paused, and Milira heard him take a deep breath, "I am sorry for your loss, Miss Davenport. I realize my actions aren't exactly proper but you must understand, someone had to notify you. See you soon." Without saying more, the man ended the call leaving the dead beeping sound to echo in Milira's ear. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen!
Strong hands pulled her up in a standing position as Drake's eyes filled with pity. He grabbed her into bear hug, holding her close. After what appeared to be hours, she lifted her head, seeking the warmth and stability she always found in Alexander's eyes.
"My uncle, he- is-" the words stuck in her throat, a part of her brain still struggled to comprehend what happened. "What will become of me? What will I do without his support and love?"