It's been awhile. I've had awful writer's block these past few months, but I'm back with my newest installment. As always, I hope you enjoy reading and I would love to hear your comments!
The Greyson Family
Lucy Greyson pulled her hair back tightly and greeted the still darkness of the very early morning with a smile. It had been exactly one year since her husband David had died, and she was finally able to put aside her mourning habit. Her smile faltered as she reflected on the past eleven years of her life. But those distressing thoughts were brushed aside with the shrill cry of a hungry toddler.
“Hello my darling little boy,” she murmured into her son’s hair as she lifted him from his cradle. The little boy sighed in contentment as he rested his chubby fingers against his mother’s chest, fascinated with the gentle, rhythmic pulsing of her heart.
The serene picture was broken with the loud clamoring of two little girls rushing into the room. “Mama! Hannah pulled my hair!” Elizabeth cried, her lower lip jutting out into a childish pout. Her eyes welled with sticky tears.
“No I did not!” Hannah exclaimed, trying to look innocent, but the knowing smirk plastered on her face said otherwise. Lucy raised her eyebrow at the young girl, who sighed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I did. Sorry Lizzy,” she relented momentarily.
“Are your chores finished?” Lucy asked abruptly and sternly, inwardly grinning at her girls’ downcast eyes, knowing that they hadn’t even been awake long enough to begin the chores.
"Well, no,” the girls muttered in unison and stalked from the room to start the chores they had hoped to abandon that morning.
Lucy sighed and turned a tired smile to her little boy, welling with hope and pride for his future. But the buds of her wishful thinking were trampled as the sound of the heavy wooden knocker pounding against the door reverberated through the house. Lucy put the toddler back in his crib and walked downstairs to await the caller. She certainly wasn't rich, but she still had the luxury of a fully staffed house – a luxury that wouldn't last very long if the bakery's sales continued to drop.
The elderly woman walked into the room, her head held high, but her steps unsteady and timid. Lucy turned to greet her caller. “Mrs. Greyson!” she exclaimed, her eyes brightening with genuine joy at the woman's presence.
Claire Greyson's aged brown eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips unraveled into a smile. “My dear, Lucy. I came as soon as I could, but it's just so hard to get these old bones moving. But I'm here now, and I'll help with the children while you run the bakery. It must be so hard for you now that our David is gone, but don't worry dear, I'm here now.”
Lucy allowed her lips to curl, allowed herself to smile, but shadows filled her eyes at the mention of David's name. Things were difficult now that he was gone, but they had been unbearable when he was alive. She turned away from her mother-in-law and called over her shoulder as she left the room, “It's getting late. I have to open the bakery. Please look after the children.”
Lucy walked into the bakery and was greeted by her rather harried looking cook. “Ma'am, I just finished the customary twelve loaves, but I've run out of supplies for the cookies! And if the customers don't get their cookies, they'll be so very angry at me.” The plump, middle-aged woman wrung her wrists in her nervous fury. Her cobalt eyes were wide with anxiety and her mousy hair gray hair was in a mild state of disarray.
Lucy smiled patiently and took the woman's shaking hands between her own. “Don't fret, Winnie. I'll open the store now and begin setting up. I'll see to any customers while you purchase the supplies. If anyone wants cookies, they'll just have to wait.” Winnie grinned, relieved and assured. She took the banknotes that Lucy offered and hurried to the store.
“Wait for those marvelous cookies?” a gruff voice questioned from a shadowed corner as the door shut behind the apprehensive cook.
Lucy felt the blood drain from her face as she turned to view the source of the voice. She inhaled deeply, trying to settle her quaking nerves and said in a perfectly even, unwavering tone, “Sir, I would ask you to please remove yourself from the shadows. If you're here for money, I regret to inform you that we have very little, but if you're determined to take it, please do it quickly before my cook returns and suffers an attack on her nerves. She's the only thing keeping my business afloat, and I really can't afford to lose her because of a scoundrel like yourself.”
In the dimness of the early morning light, Lucy could hardly make out the shadowy form steadily making its way toward her. Lucy's pulse leaped at the base of her throat and her breath quickened in a panicked fury.
“I am merely here to taste your famous cookies,” the stranger said, his voice a low, haunting rasp tinged with the smile he wore.
Lucy narrowed her eyes suspiciously and questioned, “How did you get in here? And why were you hiding in the corner?”
“Simple questions with simple answers,” he stated as he stepped into the light. His black hair was unfashionably long, cascading in gentle waves over his ears. And his eyes – the bluest of sapphires – were piercing as he pinned Lucy under an intense gaze that she couldn't tear her eyes away from. Her heart continued to beat erratically, but she couldn't be sure that it was mere danger she felt. “But, before I answer them, let me first introduce myself. Lord Lucien Masters at your service. Now, as to your first question – I merely walked inside through the unlocked door. You really should be more careful about locking it. Any blackguard could waltz right in here and take all of your valuables. And to the second question – I fear the answer is much more shameful. I fear I've found myself in a financial bind and was hoping to charm your cook into letting me have a free taste of your cookies.”
“Well, sir, as you can see, there are no cookies, nor will there be for quite some time, so unless you plan on purchasing some bread, I must ask you to leave,” Lucy said and began to turn from the man.
Lucien glided forward, and standing dangerously close, he put his arm out and stopped Lucy's retreat. “But my dear Mrs. Grayson. That is your name, isn't it? I fear you're forgetting one thing. I am your social better, and because of this, you may not ask me to leave.”
Lucy's eyes widened and she gasped, “How did you know my name?”
Lucien chuckled and replied, “It's not exactly secretive information. You own a bakery. I was searching for one. The Hertwick's pointed me in your direction.”
Lucy blushed. “Of course,” she replied. “How silly of me.” She glanced up and her eyes met Lucien's. The intensity was still there, but hidden deep in those fathomless orbs was a weariness that Lucy wouldn't have guessed about him. He was not the cocky aristocrat she had pegged him for.
Lucien broke into an assured smile, as if he had sensed Lucy's insight. “I suppose if I won't be tasting any cookies, I should depart. Thank you, Mrs. Grayson. It has been a pleasure.” Lucy thought his voice was tinted with mockery, but before she could form a response, Lucien had disappeared through the front door. A tiny smile sprang unwillingly to her lips. He had been one interesting character. It was a shame their paths would probably never meet again.
