Andre Quincy and Brooke Jarvis were briefly surprised, but they quickly returned to normal. They had always been open-minded and respected Mortimer Quincy's choices.
However, there were still some things that needed to be said.
Brooke Jarvis's well-maintained face took on a serious expression. "I'm not against this. It's perfectly normal to have crushes when you're a teenager, but you need to know your limits. There are some things you can't do right now, understand?"
"I know, Mom." Mortimer Quincy lowered his head and ate a bite of food.
Brooke Jarvis had always trusted him, so she didn't say anything more. "Have Holly come over for dinner sometime when you're free."
She didn't ask about Holly Winslow's family. The concept of matching social status was meaningless to the Quincy family. They had money; all that mattered was that Mortimer was happy.
"Okay," Mortimer said.
...
In the afternoon, Holly Winslow stayed home reading, pulling out her first-year high school textbooks to study on her own.
Wyatt Winslow occasionally passed by her door, and seeing her like this, he felt a sense of relief.
Holly's grades in middle school had been excellent, but she was hit hard by his divorce from her mother and stopped taking her studies seriously.
He had spoken to her about it several times and had even hit her once, but instead of reining it in, her behavior only worsened.
She had said, "Wyatt, you never cared about me when I was growing up. What right do you have to control me now?"
He knew she resented him. She resented that he was often away from home, and she resented his divorce from her mother.
At six in the evening, Wyatt's voice came from outside her room. "Holly, come out and eat."
"Coming," Holly called back, but the pen in her hand didn't stop. She finished the problem she was working on, checked the answer to make sure it was correct, and only then did she put down her pen.
She stretched lazily, stood up, and walked out. The meal was already set on the table.
She washed her hands and sat down across from Wyatt.
They ate in silence. After about ten minutes, Holly began to clear the dishes, but Wyatt stopped her. "You can wash them later. I have something to tell you."
"I have to catch a flight for a business trip tonight, so I can't take you to school tomorrow."
He took out his wallet and counted out three hundred for her. "Two hundred is for living expenses, and one hundred is for toiletries and snacks."
Wyatt ran a small factory in Jarton County and could make tens of thousands a month. So, while Holly's life wasn't as luxurious as Mortimer's, it was much better than that of the average student.
Holly looked at Wyatt and suddenly noticed there were more white hairs on his head. Her eyes stung with a sad ache. "When will you be back, Dad?"
'She hadn't understood Wyatt before. It was only after getting married that she realized she wouldn't have had such a comfortable life if it weren't for all his hard work.'
Wyatt froze for a moment. "I'll be back on Thursday."
Holly nodded. "Be safe on your trip, Dad."
"Don't worry about me. Just study hard at school. If anything happens, have your teacher call me."
"Okay."
"Your mother called. She said she'll take you shopping for clothes tomorrow morning, and I asked her to drop you off at school in the afternoon."
Holly was silent for a moment. "Dad, I don't want to go. I have enough clothes."
'She had always thought Wyatt was the problem in his divorce from Yvonne Lewis. It was only later that she learned Yvonne had cheated.'
Wyatt probably didn't want her to know about such things and had always kept it from her.
Wyatt sensed her low spirits. He pursed his lips. "I'll call your mom back in a bit and tell her you're not going. In that case, you can take a bus to school yourself tomorrow. Take your phone with you and give me a call when you get there."
"Okay," Holly nodded.
...
「Sunday」
Around eight or nine, Iris Kensington called, suggesting they head out a bit early in the afternoon to go buy a hair clip at a boutique together.
Holly started packing her clothes, shoes, and other things. By the time she was done, it was almost eleven.
Just then, her phone rang.
It was Mortimer.
She pressed the answer key. "Hello?"
"Open the door," Mortimer said.
When they were talking on the phone last night, Holly had mentioned that Wyatt was on a business trip.
"Coming," Holly said without hanging up. She left her bedroom and opened the front door. Mortimer was standing there holding two large bags. She stepped aside to let him in.
Just as she was about to close the door, she heard the voice of Auntie Chaucer from next door. "Holly, have you eaten yet?"
"I have," Holly nodded.
"Oh, you have a relative over?" Madeline Chaucer craned her neck to get a look at Mortimer.
Holly shifted to block the view slightly. "Yeah, my cousin."
"Oh." The more Madeline looked at Mortimer, the more familiar he seemed, as if she'd seen him in the neighborhood before.
After closing the door, Holly let out a breath of relief.
"Hubby, you can't come over next time. If Auntie Chaucer next door tells my dad, I'm dead meat." As she spoke, she made a slicing motion across her neck.
Mortimer chuckled and couldn't help but ruffle her hair. "Don't be afraid. Your hubby is here to protect you."
He glanced at her loose-fitting loungewear and pinched her cheek. "Do you need to change? Mom asked me to bring you over for lunch. And these are some things she wanted me to give you."
"I'll go change." Holly didn't act coy; it wasn't the first or second time she'd eaten at the Quincy family's home.
She went back to her bedroom and changed into a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of black sweatpants. She tied her hair up into a high ponytail, giving her a very youthful and vibrant look.
She clicked her tongue at her reflection. 'Youth really is a wonderful thing. I look this fresh and dewy without any skincare products.'
The two of them arrived at the Quincy residence, where the dining table was already set for lunch.
Holly politely called out, "Uncle Quincy, Aunt Quincy."
Brooke Jarvis ushered her to a seat with a warm smile. "Holly, make yourself at home here."
"Thank you, Mo—" The word "Mom" slipped out before Holly could stop herself. She quickly corrected, "Thank you, Aunt Quincy."
An irrepressible smile spread across Mortimer's lips. "Don't be nervous. Take your time. My parents don't bite."
Brooke Jarvis couldn't help but laugh. This little girl was quite amusing. "Moira is right. Don't be nervous, Holly. His dad and I might look intimidating, but we're very gentle."
'I'm not nervous, just used to it.'
Holly couldn't say that, so she just nodded. She reached out and pinched a certain someone's thigh. He knew exactly why she'd slipped up, yet he was still teasing her.
Mortimer grabbed her hand and raised an eyebrow at her.
Andre Quincy and Brooke Jarvis pretended not to see their little interaction.
Brooke used a clean pair of chopsticks to place a piece of fish on Holly's plate. "Holly, try some of the fish I made."
"Thank you, Aunt Quincy." Holly tugged at her sleeve, then picked up her chopsticks to eat the fish. "Aunt Quincy, this fish is delicious."
'Brooke Jarvis was indeed an excellent cook. After they got married, Holly often came back every few days just to eat her cooking.'
'Mortimer would come home from work, not see her there, and then have to go to the Quincy residence to pick her up.'
"If you like it, eat more," Brooke said with a smile.
Mortimer placed another piece of fish on her plate. "Eat slowly. Be careful not to choke on a bone."
Holly nodded.
By the end of the meal, Holly was stuffed. She contentedly rubbed her belly, but Mortimer reached out and smacked her hand away, saying in a low voice, "Don't rub your stomach after eating."
'Even after years of marriage, he had never managed to correct this bad habit of mine.'
"Oh."
Holly sheepishly pulled her hand back. Afterwards, she helped Brooke clear the dishes.
Usually, when Brooke and Andre were home, Mercy Willow didn't come to the Quincy house.
Andre Quincy and Mortimer sat on the sofa. Andre looked at his son, who resembled him about seventy or eighty percent, and asked, "How are your studies lately?" His tone held none of the usual paternal authority.
"They're fine," Mortimer said.
Andre had always been confident in his son's academics and rarely worried about them. He said, "I'll give you a bank card later. Make sure you treat Holly Winslow well. Buy her things from time to time."