Snippet #2219017

Sometimes, Cecil worried the weather would grow so dark it would blot out memories of Tania and the iced teas they spent drinking on hot summer afternoons. He worried for his plants, for his disowned sister’s glimmering smile, and for his own father’s safety. But that’s all he ever did – worry. He never actually went out and did something about it, and for that, he couldn’t forgive himself.

Cecil stared at his own hands, and peered outside the custom bulletproof windows of the Mercedes. The only sunshine these days ever brought were nothing but isolated rays bleeding through grim clouds. Sad, really.

The car slowed to a stop in front of a gardening store. Cecil preferred to walk around Throme most days, but given how temperamental the weather had gotten, he’d chosen to take the car. Besides, walks weren’t the same without Tatiana by his side. The chauffeur stepped out of the car, opened the umbrella, and – thump - the car door opened.

Rain spattered on Cecil’s crisp white button-up. What was that Tania used to tell him? That he was too pretty to ever really be strong? She was right, as always, but… Well, he was going to have to try, wasn’t he? Cecil drew a deep breath, closed his eyes and counted to three, puffed his chest out and –


Cecil Vogel stepped out of the car, self-assured and calm, with long strides that betrayed no fear. Slung over his arm was a black suit jacket, and by his side was a chauffeur struggling to keep his boss safe from the persistent rain.

“CLOSED”

Aw man. Cecil maintained an unperturbed expression. Now, where was he supposed to get some fertilizer? Honestly, Cecil knew stores would be closing around the time he left home, but how was he to know how tough the traffic would get? Scratch that. He knew. He just didn’t want to admit that maybe he’d taken too long to study for his exam next week.

The blond scoffed and returned to the car, leaving the chauffeur scrabbling behind him. He ducked into the safe confines of the car and leaned back into the leather seat with an unhappy sigh.

Er. What now? Oh, right. He ought to give the driver instructions. Cecil crossed his legs and looked out the window, waiting for the driver. The poor man was dripping wet by the time he entered the car again, and Cecil almost handed the driver his jacket before stopping himself. First of all, Father would disapprove if he ever caught wind, which he would, eventually. Father always heard when Cecil did something wrong. Secondly, the driver would probably be too afraid to take it anyway. Reinhart Vogel had instilled a strict sense of fear in his employees, constantly reminding them of their supposed inferiority.

What was that? Oh yeah. ‘It is better to be feared and loved than just loved.’ Or something like that. Cecil didn’t know, didn’t remember. He wasn’t very good with memorizing stuff. Besides, he had more important things to attend to – like how to spend the remaining hour and fifteen minutes he’d allotted for his break. After this, he’d have to go right back to studying before rushing to a dinner party being held by one of his father’s senior partners in the firm. Ack. He winced at the thought of his busy night. He’d deal with that later – his schedule was flawless, anyway. For now, he just needed some place nice and cozy, some place that felt like home, but didn’t have his father or older sisters stomping about.

Maybe Eden was still open.

“Let’s drop by Eden,” Cecil said.

The driver glanced at Atty. Vogel's only son through the rear view mirror, opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it.

The car drove on in silence.

When they finally arrived at Eden, it was a little past six. Closed as well, Cecil thought. Still, he thought he saw someone moving behind all the flowers arranged by the window, and decided it would be worth getting out and taking a look. He was a regular at Eden – surely Ms. Rozenmare would take that into consideration?

Hopefully.

Cecil bit his lip as the driver ran out into the rain and opened an umbrella for Cecil again. He had to stop with all these hopefullies. Father wouldn’t approve. Hope was for the weak. The strong knew the facts. There was no room for hope – just would or would not.

The car door opened again. This time, Cecil slipped into his suit jacket, buttoned it, and smoothed imagined creases away before stepped out of the car. Through sheets of rain pouring down over the umbrella, a stunning young man stood at Eden’s door.

He supposed the door wouldn’t be locked yet, if Ms. Rozenmare was still inside. Common courtesy wouldn’t hurt, though. He knocked at the door and patiently waited for the woman inside to take notice of him.

Her flowers were beautiful, as usual. He wondered if he could perhaps ask her where he could get peonies for his garden. He especially wanted blood red ones; they were so striking – or some orange Japanese lantern flowers. Those were equally beautiful. Cecil contained his excitement with a small cough and, after waiting a minute or so, peered through the window to see if Ms. Rozenmare had noticed someone at the door. If she didn’t, he’d have to knock again.