Noël didn't know how to respond to Leo's question. What kind of job doesn't give you time off? It echoed in his mind as he stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
He could say the truth but would Leo believe him? That he now lived in a mansion, working as a kind of… private live-in cook-slash-companion to a man he barely understood?
Before he could respond, the sound he heard the sound of foot steps echoing in the hallway. His steps sounded unusually loud. You could tell he wasn't in a good mood. At first it seemed like Avery was coming in his direction but he soon heard the sound of stair tiles clicking as he took each step and soon faded away.
Everything was quiet again but just about a munite later, the front door opening snapped him out of his thoughts again. It was followed by slow, steady footsteps that Noël didn't recognize. Curious, he tiptoed down the hallway and peeked past the corner.
An older woman with warm, expressive eyes and a posture too proud for her years stood at the door, placing down a worn leather bag. Her silver-threaded hair was tied neatly in a bun, and there was something commanding yet gentle about her presence.
She looked around the house, as if expecting someone to greet her.
"Avery?" her voice rang out, soft but firm.
Noël stepped out hesitantly.
"Uh… he's upstairs. I think he's working."
The woman turned to him slowly, examining him with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny.
"And you are?"
"Noël," he answered, clearing his throat. "I'm the new… help."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Not with judgment, but surprise.
"He hired someone?" she murmured under her breath, more to herself than to Noël. "Well, I suppose it was time."
Just then, Avery's voice echoed from upstairs.
"Nanny?"
He came down briskly, phone still in one hand. When he saw her, his posture softened which is something rare.
"You came early," he said. His voice lacked its usual sarcasm.
"You didn't answer my last text. So I took the liberty." Her tone was sharp, but her smile was real.
They shared a brief hug. Noël watched silently, noticing how Avery's shoulders lowered, even just slightly, in the woman's presence.
"So, Avery," she said, pulling back. "You've been eating?"
"Reluctantly," he said, shooting a look at Noël. "He insists on feeding me like I'm a royal."
The nanny laughed a sound so full it startled Noël.
"About time someone did."
She turned to Noël.
"Well, if he hasn't thrown you out after a week, you must be doing something right."
"It's only been a day," Noël said.
"Ah," she said, smiling knowingly. "Then good luck."
----------
The clinking of porcelain, soft laughter, and the low hum of a kettle boiling filled the house like a foreign presence. Avery sat at the edge of his bed, laptop glowing faintly against the growing dusk. But he wasn't working. Not really.
He leaned back, arms folded across his chest, trying to focus on the quarterly report in front of him. But the sounds drifting in from the kitchen below kept breaking his concentration. The nanny's familiar voice mingled with Noël's quieter, more reserved tone. They were talking. And not just exchanging pleasantries it sounded… warm. Companionable.
He wasn't used to that.
In fact, it had been years since the house sounded alive. Avery frowned and closed the laptop. His room, like the rest of the house, was minimalistic, polished, and almost sterile. Nothing out of place. Nothing overly personal. He had liked it that way. For years, silence had been his comfort zone.
He stood and walked to the window. The sky was a dull blue-gray, and a soft breeze was starting to stir. He hadn't noticed the change in seasons until now. Another thing he'd missed while running on autopilot.
The voices downstairs continued. He couldn't make out the words anymore, but the soft, human rhythm of it pulled something uncomfortable in his chest. A sharp contrast to the quiet he had grown up in. After high school, the house had never been this loud, this… occupied.
His parents, though technically married, had long begun living separately. Their schedules never aligned. His father traveled for business, his mother for leisure. Eventually, even the staff began leaving. The nannys remained the longest. And once the housekeeper quit, it was just Avery, his younger brother, and sister and Mrs Agnes the only nanny that stayed with him until now.
But Avery and his siblings weren't close.
They had been raised more like co-workers in training. Groomed to take on the family businesses, to handle stocks, to understand politics before they learned how to express themselves. Personal bonds were an afterthought. At family dinners, no one really spoke unless prompted. Emotions were scheduled, cleaned, and kept behind locked doors.
That's why it was strange. Irritating even to feel something stirring now, just because a hired cook was being chatty with his old nanny.
"Why does it bother me?" he wondered.
He caught his own reflection in the glass. Sharp features, furrowed brow. He didn't look upset, he looked confused.
With a sigh, Avery left the room.
He didn't have a good reason for going to the laundry room. At least not one he could admit to himself. Curiosity? Annoyance? Boredom? Maybe all three.
As he descended the stairs and crossed the hall, he heard the soft thudding of clothes being sorted, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional hum from Noël. The noise shouldn't have been pleasant, but it was oddly grounding. Still, something about it made Avery feel like an outsider in his own house.
He stopped by the door of the laundry room and stood for a moment, watching.
Noël had his back turned to him, sleeves rolled up as he folded freshly dried clothes into neat piles. He looked calm. Focused. His phone was nearby, lighting up occasionally. Avery saw him glance at it, hesitate, then pick it up. He watched Noël's expression shift from hopeful at first, then slightly annoyed, maybe even nervous. He tapped a quick reply, then put the phone down again.
Who keeps texting him? Avery wondered, and immediately regretted the thought. It wasn't his business. Noël was just a temporary staff member. His personal life was irrelevant.
But the irritation was still there.
He cleared his throat, announcing his presence.
Noël turned sharply, startled.
"Oh—sorry. I didn't hear you."
"You're busy," Avery said casually, leaning against the doorframe.
"Just finishing the laundry. Your nanny explained how you like things folded. I hope it's right."
"She's very… precise," Avery replied. "You seem to be getting along well."
Noël gave a small smile and nodded.
"She reminds me of someone from the orphanage. Strict but kind. I think I needed that."
The word orphanage hung in the air, heavier than Avery expected. He looked at Noël again, this time trying to see beyond the neutral expression, the careful politeness. There was more to him than he let on. Avery had known it instinctively, but now he was starting to see it.
"Is she staying long?" Noël asked, shifting the topic back.
"Just a short visit," Avery answered, perhaps too quickly. "She doesn't know I'm trying to retire her."
"You don't think she'll be upset?"
"I thought she might be… but she seems perfectly content talking to you," Avery replied, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice.
Noël blinked, unsure how to take that.
"I didn't mean to overstep. She started the conversation."
"Relax," Avery sighed. "It's not your fault."
There was another pause.
"Dinner's early today," he added finally. "I have a virtual board meeting at seven. I'd prefer something light. Not Western."
"Got it."
As Avery turned to leave, he heard Noël's phone ping again.
He didn't look back, but the annoyance in his chest flared again.