Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 78(@200wpm)___ 62(@250wpm)___ 52(@300wpm)
This is supposed to be the ultra-exclusive wing of the resort, while on the other side—by Olivia’s land—are for, well, budget accommodations. And by budget, I don’t mean a few hundred dollars. The price starts at $750 per night. What can I say? My brother is ambitious.
Paul can stop here and add more amenities and maybe water activities. He doesn’t need more. With the price of each villa and add-ons, he’ll break even in no more than three years.
The Lang house is quiet and still when I arrive. Alice gave me a spare key after I told her I wanted to do a little something for them.
I set the bag on the countertop and pull out a tray of fresh eggs, thick slices of bacon, sausages, and two loaves of freshly baked bread.
As the coffee brews, I begin with the omelet before moving to the bacon and sausages. Olivia is the first to wake up, and she rubs the sleep from her eyes and smiles when she sees me. “Oh, look, a private chef. I’ve always wanted one.”
I smile back at her and flip the bacon, the slices sizzling on the hot pan. “Sit down, love. I hope you’re hungry.”
She sits in front of the counter and props her chin on her palm, watching me and raising her eyebrow. “Last time you were in my kitchen, you couldn’t even dice the onion properly and you asked why the need to blanch the chicken. Now you’re making us breakfast?”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“Who taught you?”
“Strangers on videos and the resort’s chef.”
“Ah, the perks of being the owner.”
I hesitate before responding, “I don’t own it. The company does.”
“The company is yours.”
“Only part of it. Both my dad and Paul have bigger shares than me.”
She takes the cup of brewed coffee I just poured for her and wraps her hands around it. “You never told me about your mom. You never mention her.”
Mom. The only one who ever cared for me and who wasn’t afraid to show me what love was. The one I ran to when I had problems at school. The one whose loss still hurts me. The one I never stopped grieving.
I take out the bacon and put it over the paper napkins on the plate before dropping the sausages in the pan. While they cook, I slice the tomatoes and arrange them on a different plate, adding a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of salt.
“Mom was amazing,” I start, still a bit unsure about what to say. I’ve never spoken about her for so long, especially to Paul and Dad. After her death, it was like they wanted to completely forget her existence. But not me. “Before she married my dad, she was a flight attendant. They met when he flew first class instead of his private jet. They fell in love and got married within three months.”
The sausage is done, and I add it beside the bacon before continuing, “They had Paul the following year and me three years later. When I was eight, I remember coming home and finding her by the swimming pool, a glass in one hand, lying on the tiled floor and staring at the sky.”
Memories rush at me, along with the all-too-familiar guilt. “That became a common scenario. Mom drinking wine at all hours of the day, staring into space, and just … not being there. Some days, she recognized me. Others, she didn’t even know I was there.”
I carry the plates one by one to the table. “When I was in ninth grade, I came home, and she was gone. She mixed wine with sleeping pills.”
“Oh my God.” Tears pool in her eyes, her fingertips flying to her open mouth. “I am so sorry, Oliver.”
“She called me Oli, too. The only one who did.”
“Oli.”
“She would have loved you, Ol. She would’ve enjoyed being in your home. Mom was a fun, free-spirited soul, just like you. She liked beaches, nature, and just … laughing until her stomach hurt. She had millions in the bank and a shopping allowance of one hundred thousand a month, but she wasn’t happy. I did my best to make her laugh, and she did, but I also heard her cry in the bedroom late at night when she thought I was asleep.”
“I would’ve loved her too, you know.”
“I know.” I step closer to her and wipe the tears sliding down her cheeks. “I planned to make this a memorable breakfast, but I only succeeded in making you cry.”
Olivia shakes her head and kisses my palm. “No. Thank you for sharing that with me, and thank you for this breakfast.” She sniffs once and grins. “Now let’s eat. Mom and Sammy won’t be awake in at least an hour, and I’m starving.”
A sudden knock on the door makes Olivia frown, and I’m equally puzzled. Based on what I learned these past few days, visits from neighbors are pretty rare, and if they do come here, it’s never before lunch.