Second Love Story

Chapter 10: Precious Present

The drive was smooth, a calm night breeze drifting through the car windows as Clara was on her way back to the Cooper Mansion. The sky was spread with stars, the kind of quiet that Clara hoped would help her sort out the tangled mess of recent events. Halfway to the mansion, she remembered to call ahead and inform Thomas of her return.

Just as she reached for her phone, it buzzed with an incoming call from Florence. "Miss Clara," Florence's voice was slightly muffled, almost secretive. "Someone’s here to see you.”

“How urgent is it?” Clara asked, her voice tired from the long day. She wanted to take some rest to organize her thoughts.

“He says he has a message from the late madam,” Florence replied hesitantly. A chill ran down Clara’s spine. “From Marie?” she asked, her voice tightening with surprise. She tapped her driver, Michele, signaling him to pull over.

Florence continued, “ He said Miss Marie had asked him to visit if he ever came back to the countryside.”

Clara’s heart raced as she processed the message. “We’ll be there around midnight, Florence,” she said. Hanging up, she turned, "Turn around, Michele. We’re going back."

They arrived just before midnight at the quiet house Clara had temporarily rented. Inside, the lamps cast a warm, golden glow over the room, where Florence waited with an air of quiet anticipation. Across from her stood a tall figure—Richard Caldwell, an old friend from Clara and Marie’s childhood.

Richard's family is native to the village. Like any other village residents, they worked under Clara’s Grandfather’s protection. Both Clara and Marie grew up there with their Mother and grandfather while their father was busy managing Eunison in the city.

“Richard?” Clara greeted him, barely able to mask her surprise as she approached him.

Richard smiled, the same crooked grin he’d had as a teenager. "Hey there, Cup Cake," he teased, referring to the childhood nickname.

Clara laughed despite herself, the nickname bringing back a wave of nostalgia. “It’s been years since I’ve heard that.” She hugged him warmly, both of them chuckling as memories flooded back.

After they settled in with some tea, Richard finally spoke, his tone shifting to something more somber. “Dad was badly injured in 2008 or so. That’s when I first came back after leaving for Italy. When I got here, I saw her again. She had her son with her. We didn’t talk much… you know, given the tension between us and all. But she came to my house one day before leaving for the city.”

Clara’s eyes widened in shock. Marie had been famously stubborn and had avoided Richard ever since their fallout in high school. Back then, they’d been inseparable until Richard, on a dare game, had confessed his feelings for her, leaving her feeling betrayed and angry. She’d distanced herself from him after that, convinced his love confession had been nothing more than a game.

“Marie visited you?” Clara said, astonished. “And Ash was with her?”

Richard nodded. “It wasn’t exactly a social call. She left this letter,” he said, pulling an envelope from his jacket. “It was addressed to no one specifically, so at first, I thought it was meant for me. I read its contents and thought it was another one of her lame pranks. But just 3 days ago, when I thought of meeting with her, I learned of her passing away.”

He handed her the envelope, an A4-sized one, worn around the edges. Clara examined it. The flap was already opened, and she could see two sheets of paper inside. “I don’t know what it means, Clare. But… I think you’ll find something important in there.” His voice was quiet as he watched her.

Clara took a moment, a lump forming in her throat. “Thank you, Richard. Really.”

After a quiet goodbye, Richard left, and Clara finally sat down to read the message. She pulled out the two sheets, her eyes scanning the first page:

“The place we learned of the ancient stronghold.”

Clara frowned, unsure of its meaning. She looked at the second page, which simply read: “X.”

Staring at the cryptic notes, Clara felt her heart grow heavy. There was a sense of urgency, yet she had no idea what Marie had meant by these words. Feeling emotionally drained, she slipped the papers back into the envelope, set it aside, and retired to her room. Florence, sensing Clara’s exhaustion, refrained from asking questions, though worry creased her face as she watched her employer retire for the night.

---

As the week went by, a blend of routine and quiet reflection filled the Cooper Mansion. Without Ash, the mansion seemed to fall into an unusual stillness, save for the occasional hustle and bustle of the staff. For Violet, the week had been a struggle. Her mind kept circling back to the memory of the hug they had shared on the terrace. Despite everything, she missed him, missed the comfort he brought even amid all the complications between them.

That afternoon, her phone buzzed. The name she’s been waiting for appears on her screen—Cynthia. She couldn’t help the rush of excitement and relief that overcame her. It was the reassurance she had needed to keep going.

Meanwhile, in the countryside, Clara was following the clues in Alan’s email, meticulously checking every corner of the estate for any trace of the key. She had spent days revisiting their grandfather’s favorite spots, but nothing yielded a clue.

Finally, feeling restless and defeated, she leaned on the backyard porch railing, watching the vast farmland stretch before her. Just as she was lost in thought, her phone rang. Seeing the caller's name brought a smile to her face.

"Well, look who finally decided to call," Clara teased, answering the phone. It was Ash on the other side, getting in touch with Clara after almost a month.

Ash laughed, "That’s a nice way to say ‘Hey there, sweet nephew.’ Missed me?"

“Missed? More like forgot,” she quipped back, though the warmth in her tone was unmistakable. “Where have you been, ignoring your awesome aunt?”

Ash softened his voice, “I’m sorry, Aunt Clare. And to make it up to you, I shall entertain you for a couple of days starting today. How does that sound?” Ash sounded soft and acted cute to convince Clara.”

“Are you… coming here?” Clara’s voice lit up with excitement.

“Yep. And…if you could, please send me the location… I kinda forgot the route, and our new driver doesn’t know either.”

“Oh, you,” Clara giggled as she shared the location right away. “Sent. Did you receive it? And when will you arrive?”

“I just landed in Boston, probably in 3 hours, give or take,” Ash replied as he checked his chats and confirmed. “Yeah, aunt, I’ve received the location. Thank you.”

“Landed!?” Clara paused. “Fine, you better give me a good explanation!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting,” she said, hanging up with a smile, feeling her heart lift.

---

After the long drive from Boston, passing through the quiet roads that led to the countryside, Ash finally arrived at the ancestral mansion. Florence hurried out to greet him, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

“Oh, Ash dear! How have you been? Was the trip okay? Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

Ash grinned, his tone playful. “Easy there, Florence. One question at a time.” He gave her a warm hug, and she smiled, patting his back.

Clara came out of the house just then, taking in the sight of him. “Finally, you’re here. Leave your bags at Mr. Conners’... um, Michele will show you. We’re staying there until the mansion renovations are done.”

It took Ash a while to settle down and freshen up. After attending some work calls, Ash went to the ancestral mansion.

Ash reached the mansion. The view made him feel at peace, except for the noisy renovation work. It was shaped like a square-ish ‘U’ facing the entrance gate, with a small classic fountain on the generously spread lawn. He exhaled a deep breath as he was about to face Clara.

He hadn’t spoken to her ever since Violet joined in the family drama. He never lies to anyone he respects and is close to, and his dear Aunt is certainly one of them. Now, after a week of thinking and organizing his thoughts, Ash has aligned his thoughts and desires. He knows what he wants and what he should do. However, given the circumstances, Ash decides to vaguely give Clara an answer as he deals with the issue himself.

He went to Clara, who was sitting on the porch bench with her back facing the gate as she was observing the work. He hugs her and places his chin on her right shoulder.

Clara smiles. “What, are you trying to slip out of the explanation part, acting all cute and clingy?”

“Nothing of that sort. It's just...” Ash hesitated a while, “The situation is indeed quite complicated, Aunt. I don’t wanna make you worried over all of it. But I promise to tell you everything once I can. Can you… please not ask about it for a while? Please?”

Clara sensed that something serious was going on inside the mansion, and she knew very well that Ash wasn’t going to lie to her, but uncomfortably avoided the situation altogether. She looked at him, feeling sorry. “Fine, but just know that I am here for you whenever you need me.”

The low-vibe moment was broken when Clara suddenly straightened. “Oh, Ash! There’s something for you.”

Without waiting for an answer, she led him up to the fourth floor of the mansion. Florence, who saw them heading upstairs, smiled warmly, touched by the sight of Ash checking out Marie’s belongings.

At the far end of the hallway, Clara stopped in front of a room. “Go on,” she said, gesturing to the door. “Open it.”

Ash hesitated, confusion written across his face. But when he finally pushed open the door, his breath caught. Inside, the room was untouched, preserved just as it had been in his childhood memories, with a few more things added. The trolley bag style, the things, and the familiar scent—it was unmistakably his mother’s.

“This… was Mom’s room?” Ash asked, his voice a soft whisper.

Clara nodded, a gentle smile on her face. “And look over there, on the shelf.”

Ash walked over to the third shelf, where a small, unassuming paper box sat. He opened it, his heart pounding. Inside was a smaller box and a letter. He carefully unfolded the letter, the familiar handwriting pulling him back in time.

“My baby boy, Happy Birthday, Ashley.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Ashley again,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. His fingers brushed over the letter, reading her words slowly:

“I got this on a whim for you, but you’re still quite young to fit a watch this big. Maybe I’ll wait and give it to you on your 18th birthday. I guess you’ll have nice arms matching your handsomeness. Or maybe when you bring home a girlfriend…well, whenever it is, I’ll find the perfect time.”

Ash let out a soft laugh, his heart-warming at her playful words. “Aunt Clare, was Mom always like this? Writing instructions to herself in letters?”

Clara’s eyes glistened as she laughed along with him. “Yes, that was your mother. She always liked to leave herself silly notes like reminders, little messages to keep herself grounded.”

Ash held the letter close, feeling a wave of nostalgia. He opened the smaller box within, revealing an elegant, classic-style watch. It was beautifully crafted, the design reminiscent of something his great-grandfather might have worn. It felt timeless, a piece of the past passed down to him, just what he needed.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ash remained in the room, his heart heavy with both joy and sadness. After a while, his phone buzzed with a message from Clara, reminding him to return to the house and get some rest.

Later, lying in bed with the watch still fastened around his wrist, he closed his eyes, feeling closer to his mother than he had in a long time. As he drifted off to sleep, her words echoed softly in his mind, and he found himself smiling, grateful for the precious present she had left behind.