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Chapter 4 A Request

  • Elle took something out of her sling bag, which she placed below, leaning against the chair she was sitting on. It was a photo that honestly didn't look that great. It took in one of London's relatively remote corners, resulting from an amateur shot.
  • "Oh, you're going to paint that?" Sandra asked after seeing the photo in Elle's hand. She was the teacher at the art school that Elle was attending. Elle had been there for over two years to study painting, besides following her doctor's advice to be more active in expressing herself in creative ways.
  • Elle smiled, then placed the photo on her easel. "Yes. I plan to make a dark version of it, added rain as well as one person there." She briefly explained the idea she had in mind. "What do you think?" she asked Sandra for her opinion.
  • Sandra was silent for a moment. She looked at the photo while imagining Elle's words in her mind. "So, you want to create a gloomy atmosphere, huh?" she concluded.
  • "Yes. Is that okay?" Elle asked again.
  • "Sure. You are free to paint anything, including this one," Sandra replied. She also gave a smile to show her support for whatever ideas her students would use in painting.
  • Yes, Sandra was indeed their tutor. But she couldn't force a concept for them to follow because art was free and flexible. Everyone had the right to express their minds as long as they didn't offend others. "Call me if you need something." She added.
  • "Thanks."
  • Then Sandra walked past Elle and turned to another student near her.
  • Elle started to check the equipment she needed for her new painting. However, it was likely that she would only focus on finishing her sketch. Elle didn't mind if Sandra couldn't stay by her side all the time to monitor her work. The painting class she attended was not a private class where she was the only student. There were six other people—seven, including her—who also needed the tutor's attention. After all, they were all adults capable of working in the direction Sandra gave. When experiencing difficulties, Sandra would definitely help them. No worries.
  • Elle's hand began to draw a semi-straight line on the white canvas. Her eyes repeatedly looked at the photo she had placed above her painting area to make it easier for her to imitate the image. First, she would draw buildings on the right and left along the small street. After that, she could create supporting details, such as street lamps or wooden barrels placed along the way. And finally, she would add a human figure—something that wasn't in the photo she had taken.
  • Then she was thinking. What kind of figure would she portray there? A man or a woman? What about their figure and the clothes they wore? And their expression. What would they look like when their body hit by the rain?
  • Suddenly, a flash of memory came into her mind. It was a man running through the heavy rain. Should she make the figure resemble the man in her memory?
  • But the setting she built was in a narrow, hidden street. So, the man didn't have to run because there was no one to make him run away and he had to go through the rain. But he also didn't intend to protect himself from the rain because there wasn't anything covering his body other than a jacket that needed to be thick enough. He could still get wet anyway, which made him blend with the rain.
  • The hidden corner was indeed the right place for him to feel his solitude without attracting attention.
  • Yes, Elle would draw it that way. Added to the dark atmosphere in the late afternoon and cloudy clouds in the sky could give a darker impression. He drowned in his solitude amidst the gloomy atmosphere.
  • --
  • "Will you come later?" Sandra asked after the painting class was over. She was now cleaning up the painting equipment that students had just used.
  • "Yes. I don't have any appointments this afternoon. So I can help you," Elle replied. She helped Sandra tidy up the entire room. It wasn't new, as Elle did it often. She even didn't hesitate to help her with the other classes in the afternoon. "After this, I plan to have lunch. Do you want to join?" she asked after placing the last easel in the storage room.
  • "Sorry, I can't. I have to pick up Jean."
  • Jean is the only daughter of Sandra. This year, her age was turning eight.
  • "Oh, okay. Then I'll go first. See you later."
  • "See you."
  • And Elle left the room alone. Her goal, as she said, was for lunch. She was pretty late in doing so. Her painting class finished at one in the afternoon. Not to mention helping Sandra, which added to the duration of the delay. Finally, she could only get out of the building when the clock was almost two. No wonder she was so hungry.
  • Elle stopped in her steps just as she set foot in the outside area of ​​her art school building. Her mind was wondering where she should go. The menu selection was sometimes confusing. There were too many food choices and places she could try to fill her stomach.
  • But, in the end, she chose to visit her restaurant. Even though she had visited it hundreds of times and, of course, tasted all the food menus, she would not be bored. Nostalgia always appeared whenever she came to that place, especially when she tasted the food. Elle would remember her father, who died nine years ago. And she missed him very much. Always.
  • Elle decided to walk to her restaurant instead of driving her grey SUV. The distance between the place and her art school was pretty close. She only needed to walk a few blocks, and then she would reach her destination. A restaurant her parents, especially her father, founded almost fifteen years ago.
  • Elle's hand pushed the glass door that separated the outside and inside of the modern and modest building. The room was quite spacious, with many tables and chairs occupied by customers. It was relatively quiet there as it was past lunchtime. Perhaps most people had already finished their lunch.
  • "Elle!"
  • A call from a familiar voice entered her ears. Her head turned left and right, trying to find the source of the sound. Then she saw Amy waving to her. Her feet immediately swung towards her.
  • However, the closer she got to the place, the more Elle recognized the person sitting in front of Amy. "Henry." She mentioned a name that matched the middle-aged man's face.
  • Henry stood up to hug Elle. "Hi, dear. How are you?"
  • "Good," Elle answered, then let go of Henry's arms and sat across him. "How long have you been here?"
  • "Since lunchtime. I want to see you."
  • "You should have called me. So, I could see you right away after my class was over," Elle regretted letting Henry wait for her for so long.
  • "It's okay, dear. I had a pleasant chat with your friend."
  • "Sorry to interrupt both of you," Amy said quickly, which managed to attract their attention. "I'll leave you two and go back to the kitchen." She made her point. "What do you want me to cook, Elle?" she asked Elle sitting beside her.
  • Elle looked thoughtful. A moment later, she replied, "Your best cooking."
  • "Okay." Then Amy got up from her seat. "Please wait and enjoy your chat." And she walked away from Elle and Henry.
  • "So, why do you want to see me?" Without further ado, Elle asked his guest. Henry had made it clear that he wanted to meet her. So, she had to find out the reason behind his arrival.
  • Henry looked Elle in the eyes, then said, "Aren't you interested in returning to the company?"
  • Elle hitched her breath at the question. Henry was one of her father's best friends and a confidant in her family's company that was founded decades ago. Oh, apart from opening a restaurant, her father was also a businessman. "Is there a problem there?" She asked again. There must be a reason the person she had considered her father wanted her back.
  • "Something goes wrong in the company. And your father also wants to replace our manufacturer."
  • Elle's brows knit together. She was pretty surprised to hear the news from him, though, to be honest, she had expected it to happen. And what Henry meant by her father was her stepfather.
  • A long, heavy sigh escaped Elle's lips. She leaned back until her back touched the back of the chair. "I don't know. I'm too lazy to meet them."
  • "I know how you feel. But, if it continues, I'm sure the company will be in a mess. Do you want to see the company your parents start to fall apart?" Henry voiced his argument. He cared about the company that had been living for him for decades. But he was much more concerned with the fact that the company belonged to his friend.
  • "Of course not," Elle said evenly. She wanted nothing wrong to happen to the company. It was the legacy of her parents that she should take care of. "But I don't think I'm capable of being there anymore."