The phone rang uncontrollably for some time before she mustered the courage to pick it up and answer. She knew that it was something important, otherwise whoever rang her up would not have been so persistent in calling the house. They were outside, unfashionably so, and so were her brothers who were at another party no doubt. It was uncommon to leave a twelve-year-old all by herself during the evenings, and the said twelve-year-old was beginning to feel the same as she bit her lip, tightening her grip on the phone. A few seconds passed before she placed the phone to her ear. 

“Are you there, Anne?” A familiar voice said, soft as though wheezing.

She waited for a moment to answer.

“Yes,” the sob that escaped her drowned out her reply. “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” the caller said. “I love you.” 

“I—” she began but was cut short followed by beeping sounds, then it died.

Anne could have cried, she should have, but all she did was lay down on the sofa, her eyes up towards the ceiling as though she knew the stars beyond it. She’s become one, she thought. 

Over an hour passed and her thoughts were filled with the last moments of her own mother. Out of some morbid curiosity, she wondered if her father had any last thoughts or words for her or her brothers. She wanted to know how it felt during those last few minutes when they were being crushed to death by the car and how desperate they were in sucking in their last few breaths of oxygen. 

What was she thinking? What were you thinking? Anne asked herself, closing her eyes when the front door flew wide open, causing her to sigh, and crack her eyes open. 

“We’re back!” Allan announced with a smile that expressed fondness.

The smile on her brother’s face faded in an instant once he saw her puffed up face as her eyes drowned in tears.

***

During the funeral it seemed as though everyone had run out of tears within the past week after the news had spread. They did not expect a quick and efficient ceremony where everyone knew what to say to them - condolences and I’m sorrys being the most common while their mother’s sister, Aunt Goldie said the eulogy as the caskets were being laid on the ground. Anne for the life of her could not concentrate because of the tall, ancient figure beyond the crowd of people saying their last goodbyes to her parents. He had a full head of short, silver hair combed back neatly and a well-trimmed beard not to mention the impeccable fashion sense that was a combination of both luxury and under the radar. Anne knew who he was despite never having met him and to her own surprise, he lined up to throw the plumeria flowers he held in his gloved hand. Afterward, he returned to the back of the crowd as though waiting for any of the siblings to strike up a conversation. 

It did not take long for her brothers to notice the older man and glanced to check up on her. Anne did not need it, even at twelve years old she understood that not everyone could be relied on for help or comfort. There came a shift in her understanding of those around her, like a sage in training who finally gained wisdom but unexplainable to her pre-teen sensibilities. 

The siblings did not want a post-funeral gathering and their aunt respected their wishes, instead, the crowd of attendees dispersed as soon as the men in jumpsuits began burying the caskets with caked, damp earth. The feeling was not unpleasant, rather it was a relief to no longer pretend that they were fine in front of strangers. Once the sea of people left, only Anne, her brothers Ben and Allan, Aunt Goldie and the old man who now approached them.

Anne never felt such a moment stretch itself out for someone like the old man, akin to the expression of time standing still and all she could hear was the whistle of the wind passing through the trees. The old man stopped before the siblings who glanced over to their aunt whose neutral expression eased them in the presence of the tall man.

“Kids,” their aunt spoke first, breaking the silence. “This is your grandfather.”

“Samuel Nathaniel Duncan,” their grandfather introduced himself in a baritone voice.

He offered his hand to Ben who took the time to decide whether he should shake the hand of the man who had been distant for so long. Ben reached out his hand and shook the larger hand with spider-like fingers of the older man but it did not last long. Allan did the same, taking cues from Ben and followed by Anne. 

“We know,” Ben said, there was a hint of venom in his reply but no poison.

Anne dared not face her older brother or the old man. She kept to herself, eyes on the ground of their parents’ final resting place. The question of whether they were resting lingered in her mind, wondering if they would have wanted the old man to be here. 

“I lost someone as well,” the old man said despite the cold expression on his lined face. 

“He’s taking you in,” their aunt blurted out.

Anne was sure that there was no love lost between them despite Aunt Goldie having been there all their lives and being their mother’s sister, she lost out on taking full custody of them. If she were the judge, she would have chosen Goldie but the cards, in this case, the money said more than enough, and she resented the older woman for that. 

“I am.” 

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***

Their arrival at the villa caused a considerable amount of interest and excitement within the people who worked there, that is about four people composed of the cook, the groundskeeper, the maid and their neighbor; Joan Neumann an elderly woman who had recently rented the cottage by the lake. The villa on the exterior looked small, stuffy but the same thing could not be said of the interior. Anne didn’t think that the rustic aesthetic would have been her grandfather’s style, it came as a surprise since she thought he would squarely fit into the Victorian era of a gentleman. 

“How do you like it?” a voice came, soft yet there was something in it that commanded her to turn to whoever it belonged to.

The older woman greeted her with a genuine smile, the first time she’s seen in the past week that culminated in their parents’ funeral. Anne could tell that the graying woman was once beautiful, even now despite the lines and spots on her face she looked every bit like one of those elegant women she saw in her mother’s magazines with her hair in a bob cut, long sleeve-shirt with the cuffs rolled up to her elbows tucked into white silk pants and topped off with a pair of Ferragamos. The latter Anne could tell since her mother had two pairs on the shoe rack.

“It’s…nice,” 

“You’ll get used to it,” 

What did she mean by that? Anne thought, wanting to ask the older woman how she came to know her grandfather, and what the nature of their relationship is. 

“We don’t really have a choice,” Andy butted in after he placed his bag on the carpeted floor. 

She studied her brothers for a moment, both had their mouths hanging open in awe of the new space they were going to occupy, and this brought a smile to Anne’s lips. 

“I think we’ll do just fine here,” said Ben, still studying the wide interior of their new home. 

Having been preoccupied with her new surroundings along with her brothers, did not notice their grandfather enter the living room. Only when Joan placed a hand on her shoulder did she catch Anne’s attention. 

“Perhaps it’s time for a tour of the villa,” the old man said. 

Ben and Allan turned to face him, their neutral expressions did not say how they felt about the offer, but Anne’s face beamed up to her grandfather as though to say yes, please! 

“That settles it then,” he said. “We’ll take a short tour.” the grandfather added, smiling.

It was the first time she had ever seen the man smile since he made himself known to them. 

It was not unpleasant. Especially after they found themselves in the kitchen where the refrigerator was stuffed with snacks and sweets, prompting Anne to wonder if this was all for them. It may not have been unpleasant but the more she thought about the old man’s ulterior motives the more awkward the moment felt. She admitted defeat to her overthinking nature but observant enough to know when to leave it be. 

Everything in and out of the villa is one expensive thing after another, but once they reached the garage in the middle of the tour, that was where they melted for the first time. 

“And this is the Triumph Bonneville,” he said with a smile at the motorcycle before him. “My most prized possession.”

“In terms of material things of course,” Joan added, cheekily.

“Yes, of course!” 

Anne could not believe her eyes; it was the most beautiful thing in the entire collection in the garage. The tank is spray-painted in dark green with the word TRIUMPH painted in gold on the sides, the rest of the motorcycle is painted in black. The twisted exhaust was no joke either. 

“Would you like a demonstration?” he asked.

He was showing off his shiny motorcycle and all three of them fell for it. Anne could barely check up on her brothers who were now crowding their grandfather in her awe of the machinery. She knew Joan was in on it, they were without a doubt closer than just neighbors but to find some evidence outside of her gut feeling escaped her as she watched the older woman smile at her grandfather in their presence.

Once the old man had turned on the ignition and revved up the engine, he turned to them and spoke.

“You may look at it for as long as you wish,”

“For now,” Joan added.

Anne wanted to ride in it even if she was a little under five feet tall and had no idea how to operate a motorcycle. Once the enchantment wore off, it dawned on Anne that the likelihood of the tour was to impress the three of them. He even managed to get his lover in on the plan, the temptress…STOP! You’re overthinking again! She managed to catch herself doing it again, but this time someone noticed.

“Are you well, dear?” 

It was Joan.

“You don’t have to worry Miss Joan,” Anne managed to reply. 

“We’re heading off to the living room, you can rest there.” the older woman said, placing an arm around her that she could barely feel but is a welcome gesture. 

She never knew the feeling of having a grandmother around growing up since she had passed away many years before Anne was old enough to know what memories were. She guessed that Joan would have to fill in the role of grandmother for them, it felt like a dishonor to her real grandmother despite her being old enough to understand that the obvious circumstances did not allow for the real one to be there. 

Once they returned to the living room, the trio noticed that their bags had disappeared. She knew they were taken to their rooms, but the gesture still felt…inauthentic knowing that their grandfather had commanded other people to take them elsewhere. It took them some time to get settled, the old man had to command them to sit down and relax. Anne was sure that the old man would consider it a request but the way he phrased his words said otherwise. Once they did as they were told, iced tea and cookies were served by the butler; Andrew - a middle-aged, slender man with a receding hairline that had started graying. They took turns taking a cookie out of the plate before them, withholding their excitement just in case they break anything. She noticed Joan looking at her, encouraging her to take a bite.

“I baked them myself,” the older woman said with a smile.

Anne glanced at her brothers who took a bite of the cookies, and she followed their cue. Once she had begun chewing the chocolate chip filled biscuit, her eyes lightened up. 

“I told you they’d like it,” Joan told her grandfather who sat next to her.

“Don’t spoil them from now on,” 

Is this how grandparents are supposed to be like? Anne asked herself after their little chit-chat. She knew that if they were going to adjust to their new life, they would have to interact with those around them, but Anne couldn't help but think that the old gentleman was trying to buy their trust, or worse...their love but she was willing to give him a chance, hesitant as she may be.