Love Letters

Atticus pulled Rosary to a different aisle, and he peeked out from the shelf they hid behind, looking at his cousin. 

"Why isn't he in the music aisle with uncle and father?" He whispered mostly to himself.

Edward was looking at all the old cooking equipment, before picking up a clean muffin tin. It seemed like a normal muffin tin at first, until he tilted the tray and there in the molds could be seen the designs similar to Bundt cake textures. It was a tray for making mini Bundt cakes. He smiled as he looked at the way it shined, and ran his fingers over the outer sides of the molds. 

"Looks like he has an interest in baking." Rosary whispered as she stood beside him. 

"No I know, but why isn't he with the other two?"

"Maybe they let him go and look at what he wanted?"

"Pssh! As if!" 

When he refused to believe her, Rosary decided not to hide, and instead went out, despite his silent protest, and he approached Edward. 

The boy was startled to see her, immediately putting the tray back, even wiping his hands on his pants. 

"I got bored in the music aisle, and I thought the chef could use a new tray." He excused. 

"I should go back to my dad and uncle."

"Why?" She asked gently. 

She didn't stop him from leaving, but she could tell she didn't actually want to go back to be with his uncle and father for a bit. 

"Have they called you over?"

"... No. But they shouldn't have to. I go and I stay by my father's side often, so that I can learn all I can from them." He fidgeted with his sleeves. 

Now that she was taking a closer look at him, she could tell he was shy boy at the age of merely twenty, and yet still no courage in his voice. No bite in his words like Atticus, who likely learned to snarl at an early age. 

"It's December. And almost Christmas. Aren't you on a break from your classes?"

"Studying has no breaks, if I'm not careful, I could get left behind."

"That's probably true, but you make it sound like a death sentence."

Rosary moved her gaze over to the mini Bundt cake tray that he put back, and brushed around him, going over to the other vintage cookware. 

"Your oldest cousin, Titus really likes to cook! It makes him really happy."

Edward's eyes lit up, but he still didn't lift his head. 

Rosary did not do anything to keep him from leaving, he was staying and speaking to her of his own accord. She picked up one of the more modern butter churners, which was a big jar with a mixture function built into the lid. 

"He's learned to make all sorts of things from bread to fine pastries."

"... Does he work as a pastry chef?" 

"Close. Sometimes his job requires him to make lots of patisserie, along with different types of coffee. The cafe is pretty popular, and there's even a bar area! It doesn't serve alcohol like a traditional bar. It serves smoothies and milkshakes though!"

Edward made a small smile, looking over at some of the old blenders with her. He noticed the butter churner in her hand, and rubbed his arm awkwardly, looking over at the rolling pins with textures on them, hanging from the racks.

"Does he know how to make croissants?"

"Yes! He likes to make them all the time at home. Even ones that are safe for our Wolfie to eat! Of course, since he's such a big dog, his croissant is typically bigger than ours"

Edward snickered softly himself, imagining a dog enjoying a croissant the size of two hands. 

Atticus watched them interact, already peeved that Rosary decided to reveal herself right when they had only been to the first store. He went away on his own to check on his father and uncle. 

He found them in the music section, just as he thought. 

There were looking at phonographs and old record players. 

Edgar slapped the top of an old piano, seeing how durable it was as he spoke with Henry. The young man leaned in further to listen, hiding behind a shelf of violin cases. 

"I remember when I used to love hearing the piano in those old films that my dad would pick out for us." Edgar told Henry as he tested some of the keys.

"If I recall, I used to spend my adolescence learning to play piano!"

"I don't believe it." Atticus muttered under his breath. 

Henry had his hands in his pockets, looking at the antique instruments. 

"Think you'll play the old piano back at the lodge? I've always wondered why else it's still there."

Edgar sighed. 

"Well, silly as it sounds, my mother is still very fond of it. Our father used to play on that piano for us ever Christmas. It's useless now, we can play music with technology. Sometimes I forget why we still hadn't gotten rid of it, like with the other old things. Though, to tell you the truth, I wouldn't want to get rid of it either, and neither would my sister."

"Perhaps you could hire someone to play it for the holidays?"

Edgar let out a brief laugh. 

"Hah! Maybe. Would be like doing charity, hiring a person with a music career to play the piano. These days, anyone who decided to dedicate themselves to music is just begging for poverty."

Atticus unconsciously nodded quietly, as if he'd heard this talk multiple times before. 

Meanwhile, back at the lodge, Titus had finally gotten away from his uncle and his girlfriend's attention. 

He had escaped to the third floor where most of the kids were sent after breakfast. Wolfie came with him, after Titus made sure to brush all his falling fur off and into the trash.

The third floor was covered in brighter colors, like a preschool classroom, and had many toys for the kids to interact with. One corner had a toy kitchen filled all sorts of plastic food, the other corner had tiny instruments fit children's hands, another corner had a little reading nook, and the last one was where a familiar item sat, next to a rocking chair where the nanny used to read a book to a crib that could hold three babies. The crib was the oldest and cleanest thing there. 

Titus remembered that crib, it used to belong to his parents, and then got used for him and his siblings. Now, George was the only baby in the family currently. He got lucky and would have the crib all to himself. 

He walked up to it, feeling the polished wood and seeing the bedspread inside. It had new sheets and pillows, and likely a new little mattress was put inside, but the frame was still the same. Wolfie sniffed the crib, and went around the room, taking in the smell of softly scented cleaning products.

"Now you know what a kindergarten classroom smells like." He said to the dog.

Titus looked around the room, knowing that it was a new installment that came after his second uncle got married and had a family of his own. Titus was about twelve when they renovated the attic and turned it into the third floor to accommodate any new relatives born into the family. He and his other siblings didn't get to spend as much time in it, but each of them were certainly envious when the project was finished, and it was fully decorated with toys and foam padding.

He and his siblings didn't get a playroom, but they did have a nanny who would play with them as they roamed the house. She used to always remind them not to break anything or what to watch out for as they used to play tag.

He tried to imagine and remember what the voice of his old nanny sounded like, but he couldn't even remember her named now. Dissatisfied, he called Wolfie to his side and they went back down to look for one of the staff members, preferably the oldest one there. 

They went past the second floor, nodding a silent and brief greeting to the maids that were cleaning each of the rooms. Another pause in his step was so that they could avoid almost bumping into aunt Josephine, who was taking her infant up to the third floor. 

"Would you like any help?" He asked awkwardly. 

His aunt was always a stoic face for as long as he'd known her. She looked him up and down and at Wolfie by his side, she shook her head. 

"The nanny will be coming by in the noon, she'll also take Whitney's kids up to the playroom as well." She informed him. 

"I see." He nodded.

"Would you, do you, happen to remember the old nanny that used to watch me and my siblings as a kid?"

"No. You two were much younger when you still had your nanny. I wasn't around then. Why?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, hand on the railing as his eyes darted anywhere. 

"I just, realized that I forgot her name, and I feel bad about that. So I'd like to remember who she was."

Josephine huffed a bit of laughter, surprised. 

"You never once asked about your nanny before, even when you used to go to the playroom as a teenager to play with Edward. What made you think about her now?"

He shrugged, genuinely not knowing why. 

"... Is it Rosary that's made you more sentimental as of late? Or your time in prison?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was Rosary? She helped me become a better person in a lot of ways."

As baby George started to become fussy in her arms, probably wanting to reach and pet the fluffy dog that he recognized from yesterday, she turned around to continue going up to the third floor, but spoke over her shoulder to him. 

"Part of me believes that, the other part, foolishly wants to think that perhaps you changed yourself. No good woman would put in that much effort to fix a man. I know I wouldn't." She told him as she went up the carpeted stairs. 

"The current oldest member of the staff is the chef. Even though he doesn't look that old. He might know."

The chef was indeed still around, checking all the ingredients and getting ready to make lunch for those still in the house. 

Uncle Motley and his girlfriend placed an order in advance for chocolate covered strawberries paired with wine. The tray as to be prepared and sent a little after the new nanny hire comes to pick up the kids and bring them to the playroom. 

He was also preparing to make lunch for Whitley and Monica, something that won't be too messy so that the playroom wouldn't need too much cleaning if anything spilled. But the chef trusted the kids after seeing them enjoy breakfast today. 

Before that, however, he was working on Penny's lunch. 

Titus told Wolfie to sit and stay by the doorway as he walked into the kitchen. Right as the chef had finished plating a dish of freshly boiled chicken breasts, sliced and shredded in advance, and placed on a bed of salad. Lettuce and tomatoes chopped into bite size pieces. He saw the full details of the lunch as a servant took the plate, placed it on a tray, along with a cup of espresso, and walked out of the kitchen with it. likely heading to his mother's office. 

He turned his attention back to the chef who was humming as he began working on boiling some eggs to put in breakfast muffins for Monica and Whitley. 

Titus carefully cleared his throat and then said hello. 

The chef turned around to greet him. 

"Oh! Hello Mr. Titus! Is there something you'd like for lunch? I'm currently working on an order and then soon I'll have to make your grandmother's, so yours will have to come after."

"I'm not here for food. I just, wanted to know how long you've been working for u- for, my parents...?" 

The chef tilted his head at the young man. 

Since the water had not boiled yet, he turned away from it and wiped his hands on his apron. 

"I've worked here for ever since you were twelve."

"So then, a long time, but not long enough to know the name of my old nanny, right?" 

The chef's eyes softened as he took a look at the young man in front of him. 

When they first met, the chef remembered Titus to be a little boy, already tall for his age and still growing. He was not surprised when he saw how strong the young boy had become, just happy to see Titus had a healthy body at the age of thirty-two. 

In college, Titus wasn't as buff, aside from the muscle he gained from football, but he could still be considered lanky. There was once a time where the chef used to worry that Titus would eventually lose all his muscle as he went and studied business in college. Some things became sour along the way, but the chef couldn't look at Titus and not the see the young boy he used to be. And he couldn't not be proud to see that despite the large bump in his life, he still seemed like he grew into a good and responsible man. 

"If I recall, when I was first hired, I remembered the other maids and butlers used to talk about your old nanny. Her name was Lucy, and she was let go when you and your siblings were old enough to be given phones, hence no longer needing adult supervision as much. I don't know what happened to her afterwards, or how you could contact her again, but I'm sure she's doing fine." 

Titus frowned for a bit, feeling like he only just began to cherish the people of his past far too late. But, when he looked down and saw the shoes worn by the chef in front of him, he lifted up his head again. 

"... Have you ever, told me what your name was? Because if so, I'm embarrassed to admit, but I may have forgotten."

The chef only laughed, grabbing the bowl of semi-melted ice and placing it next to the little pot of water that had just begun to boil. 

"Of course you would forget! I only told you once and even then, you only saw me during December every year. I'm the seasonal staff, I never expected my name to be remembered by the people I only worked for during the holiday season!" 

Titus hesitantly walked up beside him, giving him space but also seeing what he was working on. He fiddled with the cuff of his sweater. 

"But if you're really curious, it's Grant. I was named after my father's favorite historical figure."

He hummed in acknowledgement, sifting his thoughts and memories for all the historical figures that he remembered had Grant in their names. 

"You're working on muffins now, right? I actually learned how to make those recently."

Grant laughed again. 

"From what I've heard, you only got out of prison a year ago! I doubt you were taught about pastries in prison." 

"H-hey! I said recently. I didn't learn in prison but it was when I got out. We make them at work for the customers. And, my girlfriend, Rosary, really likes the muffins I make."

Grant playfully glanced at him from the side, giving him a doubtful look. 

"I don't believe you."

"I'll show you!"

"Haha! Alright. But you're making your own batch, not using mine! I don't want to get in trouble just because you wanted to prove that you somehow took up baking while away."

"The ones I'm going to make are for Rosary anyway! And maybe you and the other staff, if you'd like..." 

Grant looked over his shoulder after ladling the eggs into the boiling water. Titus rolled up his sleeves and looked through the cupboards for a bowl, and then searched for ingredients. The old man smiled at him as he already got the first clue that perhaps, Titus did genuinely know how to bake. 

The old Titus was never interested in cooking. Only his studies, and games with his friends. 

"I'll happily give them a try if you manage to make them."

Wolfie was heard letting out a whining noise, almost salivating based on all the delicious smells in the kitchen.

"And make sure not to leave your furry friend alone for too long."

"I know how to make pastries for him too."

As he began making the batter, he received a message on his phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he unlocked his screen and swiped to see that Rosary sent him another message, along with a photo. 

She and Atticus were now heading to the town's theatre. 

'your dad and uncle must really seem to love music. pretty ironic since they sure do look down on people who do music as a career.'

Rosary pocketed her phone before Atticus could hiss at her to catch up to him. 

She held her purse and the paper bag close as they walked inside the theatre. There was only one show going on, the typical Christmas play about a man being visited by three ghosts.

They both got tickets and were seated a row behind the three that they were tailing. 

"It's a good thing you didn't run your mouth about anything else. Otherwise my cousin would've told his dad what we were doing." Atticus hissed to her as he cautiously peeked above the seats, seeing his father's head, and ducking back down. 

"Even if he did find out. I wouldn't worry. Edward doesn't seem like he can get many words out around his father."

"He'll answer if his father asks him anything."

"So then we just have to worry about his uncle." She quickly shushed him as soon as the play started. 

Each time she glanced at Atticus, she would notice that he'd barely watched the play, only keeping his eyes on his father and uncle. Occasionally he'd turn his head to try and listen to what they were saying. He ducked his head behind the chair when intermissions came. 

At one point, during the climax, Rosary was tempted to forcibly turn his head to make him watch the rest of the play. And so when it got to the scene of the old man meeting the third ghost, she placed her hands on both sides of his head and pulled him at an angle to make him stop looking at his relatives, and to the actor on the stage. 

He would've made a fuss had the theatre not been extremely quiet for this part, aside from the music and recorded noise being used for the actors. 

They watched the old man actor react to his gravestone, and the clever effects that the stage hands did made it seem as though he was being pulled into his grave. 

"I don't understand why scaring the old man with death would be the last straw to making him celebrate Christmas." Atticus unconsciously whispered. 

Rosary let go of his head, having successfully moved his attention towards the play. 

"He's old, does he think that enjoying Christmas would make him prolong his life?"

"The point isn't about his mortality." Rosary whispered back. 

"The ghost was trying to show him that if he did not redeem himself, then hell would await him. You saw the red lighting behind his coffin, right? And more than that, for all that he did throughout his life. A rich man who refused to sympathize with the poor, being kind to others-"

"Blah blah all that cheesy stuff. I get it." Atticus rolled his eyes. 

"Don't get me wrong, as a kid, I used to believe that, but as people get older, it becomes very easy to see, integrity starts to matter less. Charles Dickens wrote a lovely story but clearly if he saw the modern world, this story would not be the same. In this current world, being kind gets you nowhere. Heck, it makes you more vulnerable to the rest of the world that doesn't believe in kindness."

"I get your point but that's not how it is for everyone." She frowned at him, lowering her head as she kept whisper-arguing to him.

"Then maybe you should take your boyfriend for example. He built a website to support his friends, and then he designed the coding so that each game can have an equal chance of getting picked, because he didn't want his friends to feel hurt when some games would be picked more than others. And I'm sure you already know what happened, even if he tried to explain that in court, no one would take it seriously had he gave that reasoning in court."

"How do you-"

"If anything, they'd probably laugh and scold him for thinking so childishly. The only smart thing he did about that incident was keep his mouth shut, but the rest? Taking the fall for all of his friends that didn't even visit him during his sentence? I don't know what's sillier, taking the fall for friends who cut all relation with him after his arrest, or the fact that you know the same as me all that he did, and you still saw something attractive in him!" 

She frowned and sat silently, staring at him as he unloaded all his thoughts to her. 

The lights in the theatre lit up with applause, and they both ducked their heads as they saw the three men stand up from their seats and walk with the current of the crowd, leaving the auditorium. 

Atticus did not pay attention to them. His focus was lost as he stared back at Rosary, waiting for her to argue back.

"Well? Prove me wrong? Or, did my explanation of your boyfriend make you see that you made a wrong choice?"

"How do you know all that about Titus?"

"What?" He frowned back at her. 

"I was given the impression that none of his family knew the full story of his case. Yet you seem to know a lot of details about him." 

He stood up and so did she. 

He stepped back, careful not to trip on the arm rests as Rosary took a step forward. 

"It was huge gossip for our family and a blemish. Of course I'd read all there is."

"But not only that, you also knew that I liked mulled wine, and I get the feeling you also know a lot more about me and Titus than you let on. Why?"

"That's none of your business." He snapped back, putting his foot down. 

"It is if I get the feeling that you dug up information about me. When I first got here and met Paris, she showed me that the only reason Mrs. Feremore reached out to her eldest son is because of a picture of us that was posted online. I brushed it off but when I first saw the screenshot she showed me of her family group chat, I was wondering how that photo couldn't possibly reached any of you."

She kept pushing back. It didn't matter that Atticus was taller than her, or whatever bite was in his eyes, she's met fiercer ever since she became an assistant to a woman who dealt with snakes in suits all the time. 

"None of your other relatives seemed the type to engage in social media, and that photo was posted on an account that barely gets interaction now so it didn't seem likely that it was Motley who must mingle with celebrities. His girlfriend barely knew anything about Titus and Paris seemed just as surprised. Tell me, did you stalk your brother's account?"

"So what if I did? I follow his account anyway, he posted that photo of you two there, and I saw it on my feed! If anything, I didn't do any stalking." He crossed his arms and huffed. 

"Then why did you bother sending the photo to your family group chat? Titus merely uses his account as a digital picture book now, he wasn't trying to reach out to anyone. There wasn't even anything written in the caption."

Atticus stayed silent, he stared back at her, eyes filled with something as he traced the features of her face. Rosary could not push back any further because there were no more tells that she could read. He did not react confused or baffled, so her accusations were correct, but now he was silent, giving her nothing else to go off of. 

Why? What was the reason? Where did this all start? 

He stayed silent when they left the theatre, and even when they continued tailing his father. 

The young man still never told her what he was hoping to find out from tailing them, and so he gave up. they went back home before his father and uncle. 

The car ride back was silent, Rosary was surprised that he still offered his arm to her as they left the theatre. This was either to keep up his act as a gentleman, or simply because manners. He didn't put back on his usual sharp smile. 

The bag beside her made a crinkling sound, and she kept her attention to her phone, asking Titus if he and Wolfie were alright. 

Atticus looked over at the bag by her side. 

"You were serious about buying a butter churner?" He asked, looking at the size of the bag.

"Of course. Cuts back on expenses and makes buying milk more worthwhile."

"Oh, of course you and Titus would worry about something like that." He leaned back in his seat, rolling his eyes. 

"I'm sure he's probably got more in common with the chef then with anyone else."

"Actually, you're kind of right about that."

He turned his face to her, confused. 

She showed him a photo on her phone that Titus sent her. A selfie of him and the old chef, whom he told her in the text below, that his name was Grant. Rosary scrolled down to show more photos he sent; the muffins he made, Wolfie enjoying a big one just for him, the five trays of muffins and another text below saying that he may have been trying to show off his baking skills and went overboard.

He didn't want them to go bad, and none of his other relatives felt like eating any, so all of the staff got to take some. 

'I made my family chef proud! He didn't think I could bake!'

Atticus frowned as Rosary gave him her phone, and he was repeatedly swiping between all of the photos, and his scowl grew. 

He gave her phone back, scoffing like he wasn't interested. 

"It feels like a whiplash, seeing you act this way when clearly you pride yourself on your public image of being kind and courteous. It must be exhausting, having to keep up that facade." She lightly shook her head at him as she continued scrolling through photos. 

"Don't mistake me for scrooge. I may not be kind by nature, but in our world, my family's world, the only thing that matters is your reputation, your money, and your power. As long as I have all three, it doesn't matter who I am in reality."

The chauffeur drove them past the gates after scanning their security card against the gate intercom, and dropped them off right in front of the doors. 

The two stepped out and the driver went to find a place to park the car. Atticus removed his scowl in and instant and placed back on that same old smile, opening the door for Rosary. She frowned, but she didn't say anything to him as she stepped inside. 

There was no one near the entry way. All the commotion of voices could be heard from the kitchen. 

Atticus knitted his brows together in curiosity, dropping his mask briefly. He read the house immediately and got the strangest feeling that a good majority of his family were all gathered in the kitchen, mesmerizing over something, which is strange. They all have different tastes. 

Rosary walked past him, a smile on her face as she knew why, having just put her phone away. She paused right in front of Atticus, speaking over her shoulder to him. 

"I don't think you're like Ebenezar Scrooge because of your misdeeds. I believe you're a great enough actor to feel anyone into thinking you're a saint." She paused, wondering if he would give a retort or snap at her. 

He didn't. He waited. 

"But a major point of his death, when he met the future spirit, is that if does not change his ways, he will die alone. Alone, with not one person who'd miss or shed a tear for him. The only ones who did care about his death were only after his money." She finally turned around to him once more. 

More attention than what she felt he deserved considering how much he had been pulling her around today.

"You say integrity doesn't matter in this world, right? Or at least, yours? Well, I think you only say that because so far, kindness being trampled on hasn't affected you yet."

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"What?"

"Think about it. Earlier to day, you told me kindness is something that can be easily trampled on, and yet you pretend to be a saint around your family and friends. You believe that it doesn't matter who you are as a person so long as you have your money, power, and reputation, but think on this; don't you feel tired? Exhausted? Because all this reputation and money that you have to put in so much of your time and mental energy to curate, it seems like a constant."

"... It may look hard for you, but it's easy for me. I've been doing this since the day I was ten and learned first hand that good, clever kids get all the praise."

"Somehow I don't believe that first part."

In the kitchen, all the relatives were there admiring the pastries and desserts. Freshly baked and plated nicely at the table. 

Whitney was taking photos and keeping her kids from touching any of them just yet. Even Josephine was very impressed and gave an acknowledging nod to Titus, who stood proudly beside chef Grant who patted his shoulder with a heavy hand. 

"This boy saved me a lot of work! You really came back with quite the gift for baking!" He laughed, ruffling Titus' hair. 

Rosary entered and lit up at the sight, walking up to the counter to see all the patisserie and pastry. 

"You got to make macarons!" She gave Titus a proud look. 

"It's so beautiful!" Motley said with a high pitch in his voice, also taking photos. 

The front door was heard opening again, the taps of servants' shoes against the floor as they went over to assist uncle Edgar, Henry, and Edward. 

As their coats were taken and the three also came over to the kitchen to see the commotion, Edward let out a soft gasp, seeing all the desserts. 

He ran over to the kitchen island, coincidentally right next to Rosary as she even stepped to the side, noticing his presence. She gave him room and pointed to all the more difficult-to-make treats.

The macarons, the tarts, and the eclairs. 

"But, how?" He asked under his breath. 

"Think about how long you were gone for, it must've taken him time and patience to make these." 

He didn't take out his phone to snap photos of all the treats like his aunt and uncle. He didn't even attempt to reach for one to eat. Edward only stared, admiring, like he was looking at a gallery of artworks. 

Rosary moved to Titus' side, first greeting the chef with a smile and a handshake. 

"I'm Rosary. Did you help him? Or did he help you? Either way, they all look amazing."

"Grant. Been working for this family for nearly all this boy's life!" He shook her hand happily. His nose and cheeks were ruby red from hard work and smiling. 

"Although, I don't think I can keep calling him a boy anymore. Only a man can have the strength and patience to make all of this on the spot!" 

"It wasn't actually on the spot." Titus rubbed the back of his neck, bashful as Grant patted his shoulder proudly. 

"The cafe serves these all the time. Hard not to learn."

"You learned because it was just something you saw at work? Or because you knew that sweets were one of the many ways to make people happy?"

Atticus watched all of this from the doorway, simmering and seething. His arms crossed tightly as he watched even his father admire the treats, licking his lips as he secretly reached for a macaron. He popped the delicate cookie into his mouth, and although he didn't say anything and tried to keep up a stoic face, Atticus knew that the treats made his father very happy, along with everyone else. 

Paris was also taking photos and reaching for a tart, admiring the crust. Grandma Carol sat at the bar, already with a place of each treat, sitting along with the kids. Mother wasn't there, but he knew she would learn about her eldest son's new skills soon. 

The young man seethed, envious. 

He couldn't believe how Titus managed to pull this off, show that he was having such a happy life, and still manage to make other people who looked down on him prior, so happy as well.