Chapter 229: Remember the Small Things

Nathael's countenance darkened as he again dialed Maggie's number. "Sorry, the number you dialed is not within the service area. Please try again later."

Twenty minutes earlier, Nolan had called. He'd only said that Maggie had gone to meet Timothy, but his men had intercepted him at the door. Timothy is a madman. Nolan hadn't dared to barge in, so he'd called Nathael instead.

At this thought, Nathael lowered his gaze, concealing his rage.

Meanwhile, Maggie regained her composure, feeling strangely calm. Yet, realizing she couldn't change her fate, a sense of absurdity and bitterness welled up.

"Even if Mr. Hudson can't figure it out, someone else might," Timothy consoled her. "Remember when the doctor said you wouldn't make it past eighteen? Well, look at me now."

Maggie looked up, meeting his clear, earnest gaze. He wasn't exactly a youth; she remembered him mentioning he was twenty-three. But his youthful appearance, combined with an air of both sickness and vigor, often led people to mistake him for one. "Thank you," Maggie murmured softly.

Samuel spoke seriously, "I've examined Ms. Adam's pulse, and it seems you haven't ingested any poisons recently. You could try targeted medicine, supplemented with acupuncture, to extract some of the toxins." He added, "If you trust me, I'll need a blood sample. I can also help with prescriptions and medicines, but you should consult a hospital first." "Thank you, Mr. Hudson," Maggie replied.

The conversation had taken a somber turn. Meeting Timothy's gaze, Maggie smiled gently. "Would you like to explore further? I haven't been upstairs, and I need to take measurements." "Sure," Timothy agreed.

Maggie diverted her thoughts, focusing on the villa.

"It's raining heavily," Timothy remarked, pausing by the window.

The gloomy sky gave the afternoon a dusky feel.

14:48 Fri, 24 May

[JUB]

This area could be a medical room or a tea room. We could have built-in cabinets or drawers along this wall for Mr. Hudson's herbs or tea sets. You and Mr. Hudson can decide the specifics," Timothy suggested.

"Let's make it a medical room," Maggie proposed. "Mr. Hudson has worked with herbs his whole life; there should always be a place for them."

"And this room a utility room, and the other two servant quarters," she added.

Timothy's gaze fell on her notebook, surprise flickering in his eyes. With a few strokes of a simple pencil, she'd sketched the entire villa's layout.

"This room could be a gym. We can replace this window with a retractable floor-to-ceiling one," Maggie continued. "Sure," Timothy replied.

He looked away from her notebook, and they ascended to the second floor. The unfinished floor lacked handrails on the narrow stairs. "The stairs are a bit narrow. I suggest widening them," he suggested gently.

Reaching the second floor, Maggie examined the layout, taking measurements. "Three bedrooms, one music room, and one study. Does that sound good?"

The floor had five rooms. She remembered Timothy enjoyed playing piano. Pausing, she turned to him, tentatively suggesting, "Or perhaps two bedrooms, and one for your model collection?" She spoke patiently, coaxing a child.

Her recent brush with death seemed to have little impact on her demeanor.

Timothy was delighted. "Maggie, you still remember." A bright, pale smile spread across his face, his eyes sparkling. It reminded her of Nathael.

The third floor was more flexible. Maggie planned to create two rooms and a greenhouse. She'd always loved greenhouses, especially when she couldn't see. The sunlight and flower fragrance dispelled the darkness, warming her heart.

"I agree," Timothy said.

After reaching the third floor, they stepped onto the terrace. The rain was heavy, and weeds were overgrown. Maggie grabbed an umbrella to measure the terrace railing.

Just as she was about to open it, Timothy took it. "Let me do it."

"I can manage. Your health isn't good; getting wet might make you sick," Maggie refused.

Timothy didn't return the umbrella. He looked at her with a smile. "You're worried about me."

Maggie paused, feeling a strange sensation. His words were intimate, yet not inappropriate. She thought she was overthinking it, but recalled the friend he'd mentioned.

"What are you thinking, Maggie?" Timothy held the umbrella over her, standing beside her.

She realized he was quite tall—though perhaps shorter than Nathael, he was a solid 185 centimeters. She smelled a refreshing lemon scent, clean and comforting. Though he shared the umbrella, he kept a distance, yet his warmth and strength were evident. He wasn't weak; he was a man her own age, not the youth she'd imagined.

"Let's measure," Maggie said, walking to the edge of the terrace and taking measurements.

"It's done," she said a few minutes later. Bending and crouching had made her quite wet. As she turned to leave, a loose board gave way, and she tumbled into a shallow pit.

"Ouch!"

"Be careful!" Timothy instantly grabbed her arm, preventing her fall.

At that moment, the villa's door opened, Nathael approaching through the storm under a black umbrella. He'd likely heard the commotion and saw Timothy and Maggie under the umbrella, Timothy supporting her.

[D May]

Let's Start All Over Again, Shall We?