THE HEIR'S REVENGE

chapter 83

She took a deep breath and stretched out her hands to me. She was handing over the box of cake to me.

“You should have some cake instead of Black coffee.” I collected the box. “I know it's not entirely the best thing to eat in the morning but..”

I collected the box with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, hoping it didn't come out as a complaint.

I was glad. I was very excited that she was here with me. A few minutes ago, I was so worried that I didn't have anyone to talk to.

“I figured you'd need to talk to someone.” She said slowly. “Lily called me on the phone about today.

“Oh.” I waited.

Lily had already gone ahead of me.

“Don't be upset with her. She was only worried about you and believed that I could cheer you up.” Yemi said.

I wasn't upset, of course but I did have a question.

“Is that why you are here? To console me? Because Lily asked you too? Or are you really here for me?”

Yemi gazed at me, speechless.

Chapter 95

The weekend before the trial was quieter than I expected. I had expected to feel chaos happening all around me but I didn't.

I guess this was better than being worried. I really thought that I'd be busy going over documents and reviewing the timelines. I had thought I'd be busy preparing my mind but the weekend was more relaxing than I thought it'd be.

When Saturday morning arrived, I realized that I had nothing else to prepare. Everything was ready for the trial on Monday.

I had a great team, Patricia had also done a great job on her own. She had the evidence that we needed, even the witnesses were ready and the legal team had been put through ebay documents as many times as possible.

Henry had confirmed every arrangement. The prosecutor's office had everything they needed.

I had nothing left to do except wait for Monday which was supposed to feel good but somehow it felt like I wasn't doing enough.

I was at home, thinking about everything when Lily decided to show up and distract me. She fixed my restlessness without even knowing.

She appeared at my bedroom door at eight o'clock on Saturday morning with her coat already on and her rabbit under her arm and her boots on the wrong feet.

I looked at her boots, then she looked down at them.

"I did that on purpose," she said.

"You did not," I said, trying not to laugh.

She sat down on the floor and switched them without comment and stood back up.

"I want to go to the market," she said.

"What market?" I asked, seeing why a six year old would suddenly want to get to the market on a Saturday.

"The one near the school," she said. "Mrs Park told me they have a flower stall on Saturdays and I want to get flowers."

"What kind of flowers?" I asked.

"White ones," she said.

I looked at her.

She looked back at me with her serious face. I also tried not to smile. Lily had remembered that my mother loved white flowers. I only remembered when I had mentioned it to her twice when we talked about something else entirely.

Lily had remembered it, she always remembered everything and kept it close to her heart.

I knew I should ask questions, I should ask her why she's suddenly trying to go to the market for flowers but I didn't ask further.

"Okay," I said. "Give me fifteen minutes."

She nodded and went back to the corridor to wait.

I got up and got dressed immediately. Maybe this was exactly what I needed.

To keep my mind busy with fun things.

The market near St Clare's school was exactly the kind of place that appeared on Saturday mornings and disappeared by afternoon leaving no evidence it had ever been there.

Tables and tents and the particular warm noise of people buying and selling ordinary things. Vegetables and bread and candles and handmade things that people had made during the week and were now hoping someone would want.

Lily walked beside me, holding on to me. She watched everything with a certain kind of focus. She was the kind of child who notices everything and just decides to say something or not. .

She stopped at a table selling small ceramic animals and studied them for a moment.

"They are nice," she said. "But not as good as the rabbit."

"Nothing is as good as the rabbit," I said.

"Correct," she said and kept walking.

We found the flower stall near the far end of the market. Exactly what we were looking for.

It was run by an older woman with grey hair and muddy gloves and the look of someone who had been outside in all weathers for decades and had simply accepted that as a condition of a life she had chosen and was happy with.

Lily walked right up to the front of the stall like she knew exactly what she wanted. And maybe she does.

She looked at the flowers with great seriousness.

The woman looked at Lily.

"What are you looking for sweetheart?" she asked.

"White ones," Lily said. "The best white ones you have."

The woman smiled. She pointed to a bucket near the left side of the table. White flowers with long green stems. Clean and simple and exactly right.

"Those," Lily said immediately, choosing the bunch she wanted. She had gone around the shop a few times and finally settled for this.

The woman wrapped them in brown paper. Lily watched the whole process like she was learning a skill she intended to use later. When the woman handed them over Lily took them with both hands carefully.

She turned to me.

"For your mum's grave," she said. "For when we go next time."

I looked at the flowers in her hands.

Then I looked at her face. Serious and purposeful and six years old.

"Thank you," I said.

She handed them to me because her arms were not quite long enough to carry them comfortably alongside the rabbit.

I paid the woman.

As we were walking away the woman called after us.

We turned around.

She was holding out a single stem. One extra white flower.

"For the little one," she said. "She has good taste."

Lily accepted it with the dignity of someone receiving an honour they had always known was coming.

She held it all the way home, smiling and gushing over it.

“It's beautiful right? Do you like it?” She asked me, turning to face me in the car.

“Yes, I do and thank you, Lily, for thinking of me and for trying to make me feel better each time I feel sick or tired.”

She gave me a heartfelt smile..”I know what it feels like to be in your situation too.”

She was only six years old but spoke like someone who had years and years of experience. Sometimes she saves me from drowning and drowning in my problems.

We got back to find Henry in the sitting room with a visitor.

I stopped at the door when I saw him.

Brandon Mitchell was sitting in the armchair across from Henry with a cup of tea looking slightly too large for the chair the way he always looked slightly too large for indoor furniture. He was in his work clothes because Brandon was almost always in his work clothes now that he was officially head of security for the Blackwell Corporation.