Haley Thistle
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Werewolf Boyfriend: Max Part Two (special preview)
🕑 Added 2020-08-27 21:01:49 +0000 UTCHelene is tall, thin, with the most perfect bob cut I have ever seen, and dressed like she just stepped out of the Devil Wears Prada. She arrives early in the morning, just as I am waking up to do my exercises. Her heels make that threatening click clack on the floor as she goes around the kitchen, checking all the cupboards and drawers while Max has his breakfast.
“Papa! All these carbohydrates,” she laments. “You need fresh food. You need that delivery kit I keep telling you about.”
“When would I use it, Helene?” He says with a smile.
Helene pouts as she continues to circle around the kitchen. She doesn’t appear to be judgemental, just worried. “You have to think about your heart!”
“I’m wary of salt. I take long walks. And I go to the gym once a week. Helene, you’re fretting.”
“You’re my dad, I get to.” From the looks of things, Helene and I are around the same age, in our early thirties. She’s probably just concerned for her dad and wants to keep him around as long as possible.
“Elisa, was it?” She asks me.
I nod, partaking in green tea rather than coffee. “I’ve been excited to meet you. But I should warn you, I get nosebleeds.”
Her perfectly done eyebrows pinch. “Goodness, I’m glad you warned me. That would have been a fright. Mama got them in the beginning.”
“Clementine told me.”
Helene’s wife is a fashion photographer and Helene herself is a stylist. They had met in college, but fell in love on assignment. They had three children between them. Two they’d had through in vitro and another they just adopted. They had been traveling a lot, but now, they were trying to balance things out so they could live in Hearthway Hollow, with only one parent traveling at a time. It made Max happy to have his grandkids nearby.
The basement entrance was hidden behind the pantry, which had been added on. The stairs going down were made of stone, and the way Helene’s heels echoed all over was enough to give me the chills.
“I haven’t been down here since after Mama died.” Helene’s voice is heavy and sad. She looks over the room, filled with crates and walls lined with covered paintings. Her knit brow hides the grief she’s feeling in this moment. “We used to come down here and play quietly while Mama worked.” She takes small, slow steps, over to a covered desk. She looked to the corner. “We built a crib for Tiny when she was born and put it right under that window.” She takes a deep breath and huffs. “But you’re not being hired to listen to family sob stories.” She rips a cloth off a crate and inside there are paper wrapped canvases. “You are here for this.”
“My goodness, how much did that have?” I carefully remove the canvases from the crate, laying them along the wall.
“There’s an inventory notebook they used to keep somewhere down here, it has the dates, names, price they paid, everything. This was back before computers, mind you.” She takes off her heels and walks barefoot between the crates. “Mama had been collecting artwork as a girl, she had a knack for bidding with her allowance.”
“Allowance?” I laugh.
“Rich kids,” Helene winks. She opens a massive metal cabinet and lets out a sound between pain and anger. “You know, you handle this. Clean, organize, inventory, repair. I’ll even help Papa pay for it all.” She closes the cabinet again.
I smile at her while she uses her knuckle to dab the tears from her eyes. “I don’t mind. If it helps at all, Helene, I’m happy to do it. I’m very excited to see the collection.”
“I am too. I thought I’d be happy go lucky to come down here again, but even ten years down the line and that broken heart can feel brand new.” She pouts and sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Aside from someone at the museum who came to take care of all this, no one has been down here since the funeral. Tiny used to hide here, though.”
