By the time she returned to the main house, her bags had already been unpacked. Her clothes were carefully arranged in a walk-in closet, and many new ones still in plastic wrappings had joined them.
Her new room was massive—larger than their old living room back in the States. It had tall windows with flowing purple curtains, and a grand four-poster bed draped in lacy purple curtains stood in the center of the room. Her favorite blanket—crocheted by her mother when she was younger, already frayed at the edges—lay neatly folded at the foot.
The walls were painted a soft periwinkle, dotted with framed sketches and paintings Ellie had made growing up.
The seating area was carpeted with a lilac rug, soft sofas surrounded a tulip-shaped coffee table, and two shelves with all her books from home stood at the edges of the chair.
By the window, a plush window seat overflowed with cute fluffy pillows and her plushies from back home: a threadbare unicorn, a Kuromi plush, and the fox her mom won for her at the amusement park. Her giant teddy bear sat on the floor, staring at her with its lopsided grin. He'd shipped it overnight. He'd shipped everything overnight.
Sunlight streamed in, glinting off the suncatcher, casting rainbows around the room. The room was like something out of a fairytale. She sank into the window seat, hugging her teddy.
A knock sounded. Ellie stood up to open the door.
"Young miss, breakfast is served," Angela announced with a polite nod. "If you'd care to follow me, I shall escort you to the dining hall."
"Oh, thank you." She said, walking behind her.
In the hallway, a new picture had been added. One of the pictures they took in the hospital garden. Their smiles frozen in time.
The dining hall, like the rest of the house, was gorgeous. It looked more like an upscale restaurant than what you'd have in a house. Rich wood paneling everywhere, ornate chandeliers lighting the room, and a long dining table with artfully arranged silverware.
Angela led her to her seat. In front of her was the most extensive waffle spread she had ever seen. 3 stacks of waffles were surrounded by 5 different pitches of syrup, bowls of nuts, and different fruits were also placed around them. Milk, cocoa, and freshly squeezed fruit juices.
"I can't finish all of this."
"Don't worry, it won't waste" Angela laughed, leaving her to her meal.
The waffles were the best she had ever tasted, crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside.
"I told you I make killer waffles, didn't I?" Liam walked in, flipping his hair, 2 people behind him. "Meet Mary and Logan, my sous chefs and disciples."
"Hello," Ellie greeted. "The waffles were really good, thank you."
"Be sure to tell us whatever you want. Don't be shy," Liam said. Handing a slice of apple pie to her."Your dad said this was your favorite."
She dug into the pie, though she was almost full. It was equally as delicious as the waffles. The tart but still sweet taste of the apples, wrapped in cinnamon and a flaky crust. It wasn't just the flavor. It was the feeling. It tasted like her mother's.
She looked at Liam. "How.."
"Mary made it. Your dad taught her the recipe," Liam replied. "He's not a bad baker himself." He chuckled. "Well, it's back to the kitchen for me," he waved, leaving the room.
She glanced at Liam's retreating figure, then back at the half-eaten pie. Warmth filled her heart.
******************************************************************************
The days that followed passed in a blur of quiet moments. Lily and her puppies became permanent residents of her room, going everywhere she went, the soft thud of paws against polished floors adding life to the mansion. Their boundless energy and clumsy antics made her laugh multiple times.
Sometimes she'd sit under the old oak tree in the garden, a sketchbook balanced on her knees, with Lily's head resting lazily on her lap and the puppies tumbling over each other, nipping playfully at her shoelaces.
She became fast friends with Angela, Mary, and Sandra. They became like her elder sisters, telling her about England.
Mr. Hall was a steady presence. They had also become closer, and his "Miss Eleanor" had now become "Ellie." She learned a lot about her parent's history from him.
"Your mother once tried to teach your father how to paint," he shared one afternoon while Ellie lingered in the art studio, a pencil held over her still-empty sketchbook.
"He doesn't have the gift." His formal tone, delivering a joke, somehow made it funnier.
Ellie huffed a small laugh, trying to imagine the scene.
"The painting should be somewhere around the house. You could ask your father about it."
She nodded.
Liam, in contrast, burst into rooms like a storm, with Mary and Logan often running after him. He'd sweep into the dining hall with flour dusted on his sleeves, grinning like he had a secret, each time leaving elaborate dishes for her. One afternoon, he poked his head into the art studio, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Hey Ellie, wanna do something fun?" He stepped into the room. "Wow, this place is amazing."
Ellie looked up from her sketchbook.
"You've got kitchen duty."
Her eyebrows inched upward. "Huh,"
"I heard your mom had a cafe," he said, standing in front of her. "So you can bake."
"Yeah"
"I want to make Baked Alaska, Mary told me it was the signature dessert."
Just like that, she became a regular visitor in the kitchen, learning recipes around the world from Liam, Mary, and Logan.
Her father juggled working from home to spend time with her, with going on business trips. They had most meals together, their conversations still polite and distant, but warming up each time. He bought cute gifts and knick-knacks from his trips, increasing her pile of plushies.
The night before her departure to Westwood, there was a soft knock on her door.
"Come in." Ellie was sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes.
Her father stepped inside, looking less polished than usual. His tie was slightly loosened, his suit still on, holding a stuffed rabbit.
"Welcome back."
"Sorry, I didn't make it back in time for dinner, traffic."
"It's fine."
"I thought….perhaps you might like this," he said, crossing the room with hesitant steps. He placed the rabbit on her bed, not sitting, just lingering like he wasn't sure if he should stay.
"Do you need help?"
"Yes, please."
Her father smiled, sitting on the floor beside her to fold clothes.
The next morning felt different. The dogs tailed after her whimpering as if they knew she was leaving. She gave each of them a final pat on the head.
Liam shoved a jar into her hands before she could climb into the car.
"Chocolate chip cookies. Double chocolate," he said, his grin softer than usual."Figured you'd need a little taste of home for the road. Good luck, kiddo."Goodluck kiddo"
Mr. Hall gave her a polite bow, his usual formal self, but his parting words felt heavier than expected.
"Best of luck at Westwood, Ellie. You'll do splendidly."
As the car drove out of the estate, she couldn't resist taking one last look at the house and the people she was leaving behind.
The drive to the school was quiet. Her father, seated beside her, kept glancing her way.
"You would be in Hawthorne House," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "It was my house when I attended Westwood. I even served as house captain... and captained the rugby team."
"Rugby?" Ellie looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She thought he'd be a chess champion or something. "You do sports?"
"Used to, my old bones can't anymore."
"You're not that old."She giggled. "So you were really good."
"Of course, the trophies the team won back in my day are still in the trophy room…."
The conversation lessened the nervousness she was feeling.
The car rolled through towering wrought-iron gates, and an elegant crest was etched into the arch overhead. Westwood High in bold, gold lettering with an intricate emblem beneath: an owl flying out of a book, beneath it a Latin motto, slowing down as it went through the gates.
"Noli Cedere Cognoscere"
"Huh."
"Don't cease to learn." Her father replied. "The school motto"
Beyond the gates, the driveway stretched out the asphalt road, flanked by towering oak trees whose leaves rustled faintly in the morning breeze. Some students cycled past the car.
"That is the cycling team."
"Wow." Ellie stared at the backs of the students, their brightly colored kits flashing in the sunlight.
As the car rounded the final bend, Westwood High revealed itself—a vast, stone building that looked more like a historic castle than a school. A massive clock tower rose from the center.
In front of the building, a wide circular driveway framed a statue—a bronze sculpture of the same owl from the crest, sunlight bouncing off it. The grass surrounding it was lush and neatly trimmed, with neat gravel paths crisscrossing toward different wings of the school.
The car didn't stop. After going around the statue, it veered away from the main building, following a road lined with sakura trees, their branches covered in blooming flowers, fluttered gently in the light breeze, scattered petals flew to the ground, adding touches of pink to the asphalt road.
They passed clusters of students lounging around. Some sprawled on the grass with books, probably doing assignments, a group dancing to a pop song that had been trending on social media, and others huddled in small groups. A girl was jogging in front of them, headphones on, lost in her own world.
Ellie shifted closer to her father, tugging at her locket.
Finally, the car slowed in front of a massive red-brick building with climbing roses creeping up its walls. Its windows were framed by white stone trim, and a small signboard by the entrance displayed its name in elegant gold lettering. Hawthorne House.
A girl stood waiting outside holding a small board that read "Welcome, Eleanor Powell".
The car pulled to a stop.
"Ready?" her father asked gently.
Ellie took a deep breath. "Yeah. I think so."