Page 107 of Andries.


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So the offer had come with strings. He just thought that his strings didn’t apply because of who he is, and the fact he was offering me his job. Whatever, I’ll be able to make it work somehow.

Without another word I turn and leave his office, not even hearing a voice behind me. Part of me hopes that he’d call me back, that he’d change his mind somehow. But when it comes to money and pride, my dad has no equal for stubbornness.

I’m walking away not only from him, but from the life he wanted to impose on me. Although I’m terrified of the future, it also feels strangely liberating. There are other people in my family I can turn to. Grandma has always been the most supportive one, and I feel like I need advice from someone who is wise enough not to turn their back on family for such a petty reason. Plus, she’s always been here for me, and I know once she’s heard what’s going on, at the very least I’ll be taken care of.

Once I step out of the headquarters, I pick my phone and decide to give her a call.

When she picks up the phone her voice sounds quite happy. “Andries! What a nice surprise! And it isn’t even my birthday.”Touché. Normally it’s a quick text once in a while to check in, but calling is imperative in my present state.

“Hi Oma, It’s good to hear your voice. Things have been a bit, um, weird lately.”

“Oh, my dear. That’s pretty normal in our lives, isn’t it?” She makes her usual clucking noise into the phone. “But I’m sure you’re not calling just to hear my voice. Are you?”

Does she already know what my parents did to me? Of course she does!

“You know me well,” I say, amid a quick snort. “I really need to talk to you. Face to face, I mean. Are you free?”

“Of course! Come by the estate for lunch. In about, what, an hour?”

“Perfect. See you then. And thanks.” Making my way back to my car I’m still processing everything that happened with my father. The shameless way he tried to buy my loyalty by offering me his job, just to keep me under his thumb is beyond revolting.It hurts to think he’d rather cut ties with me than accepting the life I want for myself. But I guess only time will tell if he truly meant it.

The drive helps me to cool down and get my head together. After all, there’s nothing better than leaving the city to the country side. Grandma lives in the middle of nowhere, close to a small town called Dieren. Her estate is one of the originals in the family and is a wide sweeping area that encompasses several acres of land in the country. As I drive through the gates, after being allowed entrance, I’m swept away by childhood memories of Elise and I playing in the gardens with Grandma. It was such a fun and careless time.

Once the car is parked, I head to the front doors, but before I can even knock, someone opens the door from the other side.

“It’s great to see you back, Andries!” Stuart, the butler who’s been with the family for decades, greets me. “Lady Margaret is in the petit salon,” he informs while helping me to take my coat off.

“Thank you, Stuart.”

Walking through the opulent house always brings back good memories. Elise and I getting lost in the massive rooms and playing on the gigantic lawn both front and back. It’s a little kids’ hide and seek paradise.

I find Grandma standing straight by the window as I step into the petit salon, the logs in the fireplace crackling as they warm up the room. She turns around, her lips twisting into a gracious smile. “That was a quick drive,” she points out, pacing in my direction, sporting a black turtle neck with a beige cashmere stole draped around her arms.

“Thank you for having me for lunch.” After greeting her, we exchange a quick hug. As much as she’s a healthy woman, her body feels quite frail in my embrace. But her eyes are sharp as tacks as usual, and she scans my face attentively. “I take it things didn’t go well with your dad.”

A quick snort rolls out of my mouth. “Wow, you’re on the ball today.” She grimaces and then points to the sofa.

“Sit. We obviously have a lot to catch up on and I think maybe you’re here for some venting. Or is it advice?” Always so straight to the point. As we sit beside each other, Oma leans back against the couch and considering me for a moment, she then asks, “What did your lovely dad have to say?” I know her opinion about my dad isn’t the best, and as much as he garners respect for his business acumen and nobility title, Oma also knows that he’s about as warm as a December morning. “It couldn’t have been good if you’re here to see me.”

I take a deep breath, pondering the best way to start. “I suppose you already know my parents disowned me?”

“I do, yes,” she answers, her tone even.

I remain silent, waiting for her to tell me who gave her the info, but it seems like she isn’t going to dwell into further details, so I proceed. “Dad offered me his job, I mean, in like ten years or so, but I turned it down. It’s just not for me and what I want for myself and my future.” The way I say future obviously gives her something to think about because her eyebrow raises.

“Well, my dear. You know that as long as I’m alive you definitely don’t have to worry about anything. As the young kids say these days, I've got you.” Her eyes twinkle as she says it and again I have to stifle a bout of laughter. “And frankly, I think my daughter needs a bit of a talking to. Just because she married your father doesn’t mean she’s got to go along with all his decisions.”

“The thing is, I’m not sure if this wasn’t her idea in the first place,” I lament. “She’s the one who went to Roxanne’s place and told her I was going to be disowned.”

Grandma leans slightly closer to me, and lowering her voice, she says, “Trust me, dear, it was your dad’s idea.” Ah, she finally admitted it.

Stuart walks into the salon, so we keep quiet as he approaches us. “Ma’am, lunch is served.”

Grandma smiles at him and nods, before her attention returns to me and she pats me on the arm. “Let’s talk as we eat, you must be starving.”

As we walk into the dining room, I notice the table is exquisitely decorated, like it’s for some sort of celebration, except it’s just for the two of us. Still, it makes me smile seeing the fine porcelain and the bouquet as a centerpiece. I wonder if in a few years maybe there would be young children running around the table like my sister and I used to. I should come here more often.

We’re served some lamb loin, accompanied by green onion purée, I can’t help but salivate as I take my first bite. It’s delicious as always. There’s one more thing I want to bring up, and while we munch away I figure this is as good a time as any. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” I say, breaking our comfortable silence. “I know Mom had a few properties that she wanted to pass onto me when I turned eighteen.” Oma puts her cutlery down, her interest piqued. “But since I was abroad, I’m not sure if she managed to transfer the ownership or not.”

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