My Father's Best Friend novel Chapter 14

Leaving his car in such haste towards the arrival gate of LAX, Lance's mind is filled with the thing he saw in the hallway, though he acted upon assumption, the guilt written like words on Andrea's face was clear and he knew that his guess was right.

He arrived at the gates just in time to bump into a blonde man with a rounded belly wearing Bermuda shorts and flowered polo shirt accompanied by a short haired petite woman with the thing he forgot to bring: paper.

"Sir, can I have your paper? I really need it," he said, gesturing to the greeting paper clutched on his hand.

"Sure," the man answered, good-naturedly and handed him the paper with the name 'Hans Doilley' written in an awkward scrawl.

"Thanks," he said and made his way towards the waiting crowd near the conveyor carousel while writing 'Holly Gallagher' on the other side of the paper.

Lance's arrival was just in time to the announcement of the arrival of the flight from Madrid. His wait did not take long as a woman with the same dark hair as him, secured in an elegant bun, appeared among the first to unload the plane. The woman was wearing a dark blue blouse with loose sleeves and white slacks together, with the tinted shades she was wearing, Lance could nit decipher where she was looking until her face faced his direction and a smile formed on her red lipstick-ed lips.

She walked towards him and removed her shades, revealing her hazel eyes together with the small wrinkles forming on the sides.

"Lance," she cried out, sophisticatedly, and gave Lance a gentle squeeze.

"Aunt Holly, how are you?" he said as she let go of him.

"I'm well, mi precioso," she said, her fake Spanish accent evident in her English.

"I see Spain has gotten into your skin," Lance said, looking his aunt up and down.

"Oh, don't be silly, Lance. I've been in Spain long enough..." she said and started looking around her and noticed the crowd was beginning to get thicker.

"I would love to remain and chat, but I don't think this is an ideal reception, don't you think?" she added and quickly made her way to the carousel to point out her baggage which Lance had the burden to carry to his car.

"Donde esta Andrea?" asked Holly as she got in Lance's car.

"Pardon?" Lance said in confusion. He may know a bit of French and German, but he is an alien in Spanish.

"Where's the girl you've been talking about, the Andrea?" she asked as Lance started the car.

"Oh, I forgot to bring her," Lance lied, he does not want his aunt to know they are having a little problem.

From the corner of his eye, Lance noticed his aunt arch a grow, "Oh honey, six years may have passed, and I still strongly believe you just don't forget things especially a human being," Holly said while waving a hand in the air.

The view may be spectacular, and the space may be huge, but what Andrea treasured the most about her haven is its roomy shelves on the opposite walls of her bedroom, giving her enough space for her pleasure books and academic books.

Andrea, though her preferences are random, preferred contemporaries rather than the classics, and because of that her books are mostly out of the bestseller's list from previous years or so, but she did read classics, she was not really the girl for it.

Picking up something from the shelf, she plumped down her bed and opened it at a random page. She realized she was holding her battered copy of The Da Vinci Code which she bought out of a garage sale somewhere when she was fifteen, and she had liked the book, not in the way that made her feel like turning her back to Christianity and becoming a Pagan, she had liked how the characters think and act according to the clues and hints they find and she just adored them. Especially Sophie Neveu.

She was halfway towards Sophie's indigenous plan at the Louvre when her doorbell rang. Her eyebrows creased, she was expecting the day to be all spent on her own, but as the doorbell continued to shatter her tranquility, she knew who that may be.

Her ever insistent best friend, Victoria Smith.

She trudged back to her front door, with the book in her hand, wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of shorts, and opened her door in such force.

"I told you, I am not coming to the par-" but she stopped mid-sentence at the sight in front of her.

It was not what she expected.