Chapter 100

“Awesome!” Jasmine skipped upstairs, her mood visibly lifted. Charlene, tidying up after shutting her laptop, stepped from the master bedroom to find Jasmine throwing herself into her arms, exclaiming, “Mommy!”

“Uh-huh,” Charlene responded, stroking her daughter’s hair but not embracing her.

Jasmine, oblivious to her mother’s reserve, chattered happily. Thorne entered then. Their eyes met momentarily; his expression unreadable, hers equally composed. She turned to Jasmine. “How about Mrs. Thompson gives you a bath tonight? Mommy has something to discuss with Daddy.”

Thorne paused mid-step.

Jasmine, in high spirits after two fun-filled days, was slightly reluctant but didn't protest, going off to bathe with Mrs. Thompson.

Charlene, noticing Thorne leaning against the wall, fiddling with his phone, suggested, “Shall we talk in the room?”

“Sure.”

Charlene entered first, then, as Thorne followed, said, “Could you close the door, please?” She worried Jasmine might overhear if their conversation became an argument. Despite years of marriage and a strained relationship, they’d never actually fought. Thorne seemed too indifferent, and Charlene valued their time too much to waste it arguing.

Thorne casually closed the door and turned to her. “What’s up?”

Charlene went straight to the point. “Vesta’s uncle bought the villa across from my uncle’s, and they’ve been renovating. I expect they’ll move in soon.”

Vesta’s mother, Maureen Spencer, had a complicated history with the Ross family, extending beyond Maureen and her mother, Sybil, back to their grandmothers, once close friends. Vesta’s grandmother had led a difficult life, often supported by Charlene’s grandmother. This friendship extended to Maureen and Sybil, making them close friends as well. The Hawkins and Ross families were similarly situated. Henley and Sybil’s love had been genuine, their early years happy. However, everything changed after Maureen returned from college… To elevate Maureen, her family had turned against Charlene’s, abandoning the humility they’d once shown in seeking her grandmother’s assistance.

Charlene didn't detail these complexities, but believed Thorne was aware of them. She hoped bringing it up would convey the situation’s gravity. He understood. He understood what she implied.

He produced a cigarette, hesitated as if seeking permission, then asked, “Mind if I smoke?”

Charlene shook her head.

He lit the cigarette. “You want me to make them move?”

“Yes.”

Thorne took a drag, his response delayed. This was exceptionally important to her. She could overlook other issues, but not this. Clutching her hands, tears in her eyes, she pleaded, “Do me this favor. I’ll agree to whatever you ask, just as long as you—”

Before she could finish, he said, “Okay.”

She was startled by his immediate agreement.