@Mister Thirteen
Leather.

Maddison ran her fingers over the smooth black interior of the vehicle’s rear seats. It smelled of clean leather. Subtle yet very distinct. Resting her head against the cold window, she watched the new city blur by. The schools, offices, parks, corner stores… All foreign to her. These weren’t the schools that she attended. These weren’t the parks that she played in. These streets were not ones that she ever walked. Her breath left a spot of fog on the dark, tinted window. She raised her arm, rubbing away the condensation with the sleeve of her sweater. Then she looked forward, up at the rearview mirror to see a pair of eyes trained on the road ahead.

The ride had been quiet. No music… No conversation. Just the quiet hum of the car. Though, she didn’t particularly mind it. She was not in any particular mood for small talk.

Even still, she couldn’t resist the small thoughts. Small thoughts the kept her attention off of the bigger things. Small thoughts like, why was the smell of leather so pervasive? The loose thread on the sleeve of her shirt. She closed her eyes, laying her head on the headrest. What would she be doing if she were back home? Homework, perhaps? Or watching her favorite television show… She winced mentally.

Home.

Could that place even be considered home anymore? Surely not. Could she even stomach to watch what used to be her favorite show anymore? It seemed a sort of omen now, to watch it without her mother. She tugged her hat down over her eyes. Langley, Virginia. It was the city of her birth… But she had no memory or the place. Could an unfamiliar place, filled with unfamiliar faces be a home? She was tired and her wary eyes showed it. Maddison was unsure when exactly it had happened but she had at some point drifted to a light sleep - on the cusp if consciousness.

“We’re here.”

She jumped slightly, opening her eyes. She shuffled in her seat at first, feeling a sort of anxiety rising in her. She was about to meet her father… She fumbled with her bag, gathering her items in her arms. The man that had driven her, wordlessly stepped out - his door shutting before he circled the car to open her door. She stepped a single foot out before she briefly froze, her gaze falling on the estate that they had pulled in front of. Cobbled pavement, with perfectly trimmed hedges, laid out before nothing short of a mansion. Behind them a gate pulled closed, as if automatic, with a metal clink. She glanced at the driver uncertainly, almost hesitant. Was she supposed to be here? But he gestured with a sweep of his arm, for her to step out. “Uh… Thank you.” She uttered quietly, squeezing her backpack tightly before stepping out of the vehicle fully.

The man unloaded her luggage from the trunk, silent as he had been the entire ride. Again, Maddison hesitated. “... Uhm, where is he?” She asked. Her voice trembled slightly, as did her hands. “...My dad?” She elaborated quietly. It was a foreign word to her. She seldom mentioned him… No one ever did. “Is he here?” The ride here brought about quite a bit of anxiety. What should she say to him? Should she hug him?

Upon arriving, more questions occured to her. Like, what did he do? This house - as large as it was... Did he have another family? She gulped.

The pleasant summer air was suddenly split by a single sound.

It was the opening of a door.

Not a car door, but the large, glazed oak door on the front of the grand mansion that towered before Maddison.



The door slowly came open, swinging around tenderly without so much as a squeak on it's oiled hinges.
The door now stood wide open, and a woman came striding out.
A short woman in a black and white outfit with a simple apron at front, and tied around her waist over the apron was a kind of belt from which several objects hung from thin loop-like straps. A dust rag, a spray bottle, a sponge, and a small can of windex.

She was a maid, clear and obvious.
As she briskly approached, her gaze locked tightly on Maddison.
She had long blonde hair tied into a tight bun, and her eyes were a piercing ice blue, her slightly wrinkled face had a rather sympathetic motherly look to it.
She was noticeably shorter than Maddison by a good two inches or so.

She now stood before Maddison, her arms held firmly at her sides.
Her stern motherly face softened into a sweet smile as she looked into Maddison's face.

"You must be Maddison," she said, breaking the silence,"my name is Beatrice, it's so good to see you."
Her voice was sweet like honey, and her tone was gentle and kind.

Maddison stood, staring in awe at manor - it was as if it were cut and paasted from a magazine. Meticulously designed and built and equally kept. It was easily four times the size of the home she had left behind, at the very least. Did her father really live here? As the girl marveled, her attention was seized and drawn to the front entrance as the door soundlessly opened.

Her slackened jaw clenched as she tensed slightly- her shock over come with nervousness as she was suddenly approached by the individual that emerged. The woman happened upon her quickly, her strides quick and her expression stern. Maddison took a half step back, her grip on her bag tightening and her heart racing. Madison’s eyes fixed on the woman’s own blue irises until the woman was within arm’s reach. Unwittingly, she held her breath.

Then the woman’s expression softened. A welcoming smile as she greeted Maddison. A smile warm enough to ease Maddison, if just a bit. Beatrice... Maddison nodded her head slowly. “Nice to meet you,” She replied quietly. She glanced up briefly, past the woman, an expectant look in the direction of the door. Then looked to Beatrice again, offering a small smile in return - though the smile poorly hid the pained expression she wore prior. Her brown eyes conveyed more than she had intended for them to.

Maddison wasn’t sure what she had expected... But it wasn’t this. She hesitated again, fidgeting. “I— You, know me?” She quietly asked. “So,” She trailed for a moment. “Is my father here?” Why hadn’t he showed up yet? Where was he? She had expected him to pick her up. Even here, he hadn’t showed up to meet her. “Blake?” She elaborated. “Blake Colvin?”

Beatrice's smile never left her face.

"Of course I know you, dear," she said,"well, at least who you are. Mister Colvin told me to be expecting you sometime today. He's told us about you. George and I have been preparing for your arrival all week in fact."

She paused briefly, then continued.

"Mister Colvin is not home right now I'm afraid, he's at work at the office. He won't be home until around six o'clock, but he instructed me to help you get settled in, you know, show you around, show you to your room, all that."

The squeaking of vehicle breaks could suddenly be heard behind Maddison.
The driver had sat Maddison's bags behind her and was already back in his car pulling backward down the driveway, through the reopened gate, and out into the street.
With a quaint roar from the engine, he went cruising on down the street away from the lavish estate.

Beatrice stepped past Maddison and lifted her bags up, holding them firmly at her sides gripped in each hand. The large gate slowly closed again as Beatrice stepped past Maddison with her bags.

"Come on," she said,"let's get your things up to your room, and then I'll make you something to eat if you'd like. Or, you can wait until this evening and dine with Mister Colvin. It's your choice."

@Mister Thirteen
Maddison smiled sheepishly, briefly averting her eyes as the woman explained. They had been awaiting her arrival. “All week?” Beatrice and George... The former was present, assumed by Maddison to be a housekeeper. Perhaps this George fellow was as well. How many people were here, she wondered. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.” She offered a small, forced laugh. “I’m not nearly as high maintenance as this house must be.” She looked up at the manor once again. Maddison just needed a room - and she was sure this place had more than enough. She looked to Beatrice before quickly added: “I appreciate that. I bet everything is perfect.” She trailed. She was not ungrateful, not at all.

She was quiet as Beatrice explained her father’s whereabouts. He would be at work until six... At an office? A place like this with an office job? Maddison’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Oh,” She murmured quietly. “I see.” More suspense. Or more time to prepare herself mentally.

When prompted, Maddison nodded her head, following after the woman. A few paces behind, as they approached the open doors she was awash with a sense of surreality. She felt quite detached and simply out of place. It didn’t feel or like home. As welcoming as the woman was, there was something inexplicably off. It was quiet. Isolated. There was an vague scent in the air - a smell Maddison could only describe as clean, maybe lemony. Perhaps it was just the foreignness and newness of it all.

As the journeyed through the doors and advanced further into the house, Maddison’s eyes wandered. Silently processing her surroundings, absorbing the visuals. The interior was no less impressive than the exterior of the home. Spacious and neat, expertly designed. High ceilings from which a decorative light fixture hang. A large television and fine leather couches. “I’m, not really hungry.” She insisted. “I don’t mind waiting for him to get here.” She murmured absently. She turned toward Beatrice, unable to resist her curiosity. “Is he married? I mean... Does he have a family?” She inquired. This was a big space to occupy alone.

As the two had progressed on through the house, they came to a simple wooden staircase with red carpeting just past the living room, which lead up to the second floor.

Beatrice was about to transcend the staircase when Maddison began questioning if Blake had a wife and family, causing Beatrice to instantly halt from taking the first step onto the staircase.

She turned to Maddison calmly and said,"No dear. Your the only child he has, and he hasn't been married since he and your mother divorced.
I believe he did date on and off when he was in Manhattan for several years, but from what little he told me none of the women he dated went very far.
And I don't believe he's even been on a single date since he moved back here seven years ago. His work keeps him absorbed for the most part."

She turned and began walking up the stairs, the carpet totally muffling her already delicate steps.

The stairs lead to a long hallway.
The milky white wall was decorated with simple framed paintings and candlestick holders, and an end table halfway down the hall with a bouquet of potted roses resting in the tables' middle.

There were three doors on the left side of the hall, and two doors on the right, and a large oak brown door at the end of the hallways with a strange device on the wall nearby, the device sat parallel to the doorknob.

Maddison stopped abruptly as the woman leading her came to an unannounced halt. The brunette took a half step backwards, blinking owlishly, a mildly confused expression. For a moment, she thought the question to be off limits, and then the woman explained to her. “Oh...” So he really did not have a wife or other children. She wondered if that made for a lonely and boring life. An even more prominent question... If he was as absorbed with his work as it seemed...

Was he able to commit to really looking after her?

Maddison nodded her head lightly, a silent indication to the woman that she understood. With that, Beatrice proceeded to climb the stairs, so Maddison followed closely behind her. Once they reached the second floor, her eyes wandered to the doors that flanked the hall. Three on one side, two on the opposite. Bedrooms, she assumed, an a bathroom. Perhaps, an office as well. Then at the very end of the hall, a looming door. Had it not been for the peculiar electronic pad mounted beside the door, it would have been an unassuming, regular door.

Though this particular room piqued her interest - it was the only room to have such a device. What, she wondered, was it? And what was beyond the door? She raised a brow curiously. Was it a lock? And if it was... Why did he need to lock off an entire room? Why, when he lived alone, would he need to restrict a room? Before the thought had even occured to ask the woman, she heard the familiar comforting voice address her.

“This way, dear.”

Maddison blinked, bringing her attention back to Beatrice. “Coming,” She answered quickly.

The woman continued down the hall, stopping in front of a door. Setting her luggage down only to twist the knob, Beatrice opened the door. Stepping inside, she placed Maddison bags down before turning to her with a warm smile. “This is your room.”

Maddison stood in the door, taking a moment to absorb her new surroundings... her new room. At first glance, it looked very much like a hotel room. It was very obviously, not lived in. To the far wall, a pair of sliding windows, with drapes tucked to the sides, permitting light from outside. In the corner, a bed with a stand to the side. Square wall shelves on the walls, with books in some and small items in others. A dresser. A pair of doors, with she assumed to be a closet, besides which sat a chair with a throw. A television. Maddison slowly advanced inside.

“It’s not exactly a ‘teenager’s’ bedroom. But you can decorate how you like, we’re happy to help you settle.”

Maddison smiled, setting her bag down in the chair. “Thank you. Really.”

“Any time.”

She was warm... She emitted a certain sort of nurturing that helped put Maddison at ease.

“Will you need help unpacking?”

“Oh, no,” Maddison waved a hand. “I, uh, I can manage.” She assured.

“Very well. Call for me if you need anything. The bathroom is just across the hall. I’ll get started on dinner, your father will be home in just a couple of hours.”

Maddison nodded her head, thanking Beatrice once more. Once alone, she stood in silence, in the center of the room. After a moment, she moved. This was going to take some adjusting. Sitting down on the bed, she laid back and stared up at the ceiling.

As the hours passed it was soon evening, the burning summer sun was in a descent down toward the western horizon. The large grandfather clock in the estate living room sounded off with a loud Dong!, the hour hand resting on six o'clock exactly.

Beatrice was in the kitchen finishing up supper when she heard the clock sound, and glanced at her small, simple wristwatch to see the time.
She then returned to stirring away at the iron pot before her, the smell of fresh meat sauce drifted up into her face, making her own stomach rumble at the tantalizing smell, which drifted through the entirety of the house.

"That certainly smells good," came a voice from behind her,"how much longer till it's ready?"

Beatrice turned to face George standing several feet behind her, a satisfied and eager look on his face at the contents for tonight's supper.
He was an older man with a thin, wiry frame, and a somber face with grey eyes that were droopy in the corners. His hair was dusty brown with waves of gray along his hairline and on the sides. He wore a white dress shirt with a black bow tie and a pair of black slacks and matching dress shoes.

Beatrice looked back to the pot smiling.
"About ten more minutes, of course we have to wait for Mister Colvin to get home before serving."

"Of course." George said with an affirming nod.

As if on queue, the opening and closing of the front door could be heard, followed by the heavy clopping of dress shoes on the floor.

"Ah, speaking of whom..." George began as he hurried out of the kitchen into the foyer.

As George departed, Beatrice withdrew the wooden stirring spoon from the pot of sauce and, after slightly tapping it against the pot's interior, lay it on a napkin on the nearby counter.
After wiping her hands on a nearby dishrag she hurried out of the kitchen herself.

Blake Colvin now stood in the foyer, George helping him remove the solid black blazer he wore over his shirt, a blue button-up with a red tie.
Once his arms were free, Blake loosened his tie slightly and reached up and brushed a strand of curly black hair from his forehead.
His face was drawn up and intense looking, and his eyes beheld a tired look.

"Exhausting day, sir?" George asked as he nearly hung Blake's blazer on the coat rack near the door.

Blake released a heavy yawn and finally responded,"Indeed, enough paperwork and files to numb a man's fingers."

It was then that Beatrice's voice suddenly rung out throughout the house,"Maddison, come on down now, it's time for supper. And there's someone here to see you."
She put heavy emphasis on the second sentence, annunciating it practically by the letter.

Blake froze in place, his hand on his watch, his eyes directed in the direction of Beatrice's voice, which was at the bottom of the second floor staircase.

George looked around at Blake and said with a smile,"She's here sir, she arrived this afternoon."

"I practically forgot." Blake grumbled, his bounce low.

"Sir..."George said, his toned glazed with a hint of disapproval.
Blake waved him off though, and George clasped his hands behind his back and remained silent.

Blake remained grounded where he was, his mind swirling with a single thought.

My daughter, she's here.

Outside of the bedroom window, Maddison could see the perimeter of the home. Lush green, mowed glass that looked so fresh she could practically smell it. Lined with trees, obscuring the view of much beyond the border of the property. Shrubs dotted with colorful flowers. Slowly, the teen lowered her gaze before quickly pulling the curtains closed.

With that, Maddison sat down on the bed, taking a pillow and holding tightly to her chest. Fresh linen. She inhaled deeply as she laid back on the soft mattress. She curled up slowly, closing her eyes. Unable to drift to sleep just yet, she laid there in silence and let the emptiness swallow her for the time being. She was not sure how much time had passed before she was abruptly snapped back to reality. Her body tensed, her eyes snapped towards the door, suddenly alert. It was Beatrice’s voice, which on it’s was not bad... but her words brought a sense of apprehension.

Someone here to see you. She quickly sat upright.

Who else would it be? A feeling of anxiousness swelled in the pit of her stomach and her heart began to race. Panic and mixed emotions. She was still for a moment, perhaps with the hope of calming herself, quelling the uneasiness. She stood, allowing her pillow to drop to the floor. Willing herself to move - just do it. Get it done. Like a bandaid. The sooner she saw him, spoke to him, the sooner this feeling would go. She flung the door open and turned down the hall.

She descended the steps slowly, apprehensive. At the foot of the stairs she could see Beatrice waiting. A sure sign that Blake was just beyond the stairwell. She gulped, continuing down the flight of stairs. Once she reached the landing, she stopped abruptly, immediately spotting the brunette man. She stood at the foot of the stairwell, frozen - chest tightening, stomach knotted and tears threatening to fall. It’s... really him. It seem unreal. Maddison exhaled. There was, what seemed to her, a long a pause.

Maddison had never known how much she resembled him until she stood there facing him for the first time. From his hair and eyes, to the shape of his face. It was shocking. Briefly, she averted her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. “... Hi.” She finally managed, her voice just barely a whisper.

The awkward silence lingered in the air, only emphasized by Blake’s stiffness. Unmoving... Unspeaking. His expression monotonous- apathetic, even. His eyes gave nothing away, just as stifled as the rest of him. Like a robot.

Maddison let her gaze shift, drifting away from him. Down at her denim jeans, canvas sneakers amd the polished wood floors. She shifted her weight from one foot too the other. Then there was the abrupt, sharply pronounced stamp. Maddison jumped slightly, looked towards the cause. Beatrice stood, purposely keeping her eyes to the floor. Then, as if on cue, Blake cleared his throat before finally speaking.

Blake Colvin. Maddison couldn’t help but to find a bit of dry humor in his words. So formal and precisely articulated, he really did remind her of a robot. “Thank you,” She quietly replied. “Everything is great.” She assured. She looked towards Beatrice again, offering a small smile and a nod of her head. There was that warmth.

“Alright.” She replied to Blake’s suggestions.

---

Dinner was served. Still warm, emitting a delicious smelling steam. At the center of the table, a basket of warm garlic bread. The slice baguettes browned to perfection sprinkled with parmesan and parsley flakes.

It was expectedly quiet, the occasional sound of silverware touching their plates. Maddison quietly poked at her food, taking a small bite here and there. Every now and then, glancing in Blake’s direction. What was he thinking? She wondered.

Talk privately... There was so much that they could discuss. So much that he had missed in her life. So much, she was sure, that she had missed in his life. All that she was feeling. Everything that she was thinking. Yet, every potential conversation seemed to elude her. Hesitance prevented her from speaking. She sat silently on the couch, until finally Blake spoke. She perked up at first, as if he had her full attention.

Though, hearing his words she seemed to deflate. “Oh.” Her eyes downcast and she seemed to sink further into the couch. She had heard those condolences over and over. They were always well intentioned; the reminded always seemed to reopen a fresh wound. “Thank you.” She replied with practiced ease.

“And thank you for bringing me here.” Maddison added after a pause. She couldn’t help but feel a little intrusive being her... Her whole life, he didn’t have anything to do with her. And suddenly, he was burdened with the responsibility of taking her in. It wasn’t home yet, but it was nice here. And without him, she didn’t know where she would have ended up. “Everything is great.” She assured. “Better than great. So you guys don’t have to go out of your way to accommodate me.” She insisted.

“But,” Maddison glanced up at him, wringing her hands slowly. “I did want to ask you.” She started, but her words trailed. “Do you have time?” She wondered. “I mean... For me?” She gestured to herself. “Or do you work a lot?” It was one of the very few things her mother had ever told about him. And judging from his lifestyle it seemed to ring true. He was a hard worker.