Okay so as you may know this story is originally by thefrostedrose. but I have PMd them and been given permission to adopt it. Also as you may know I (under my old name) assissted in writing this story. I began helping in Chapter 3. I have made a few changes to the story so that it makes more sense to me while writing. The main change you will see is that I changed it to having points of veiw.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with this story. Until I took control of the plot in chapter 5.
(Conversation: Caitlyn;Abby)
Alone
Chapter 1
(Caitlin POV)
I sat on the stool at the black marble counter in the kitchen, facing the island, and the rest of the chic, modern, electrical appliances. It wasn't even the real kitchen, it was the show kitchen. The cooks cooked in the real kitchen, and then brought it in there to make it look like we made it ourselves. It was 5:00 p.m., and I was doing my math homework, my nanny, Lily, was in the other room, dusting. I could hear the faint hum of one of the maids upstairs vacuuming. I could smell the roses in the vase down the hall, but now it was tinted with the soft scent of Chanel No. 5. I heard the clicking of heels coming down the front hallway, but continued to focus on my math homework.
"'Suppose I discovered that my cat had a taste for the adorable little geckoes that live in the bushes and vines in my yard, back when I lived in Arizona. In one month, suppose he deposited the following on my carpet: six gray geckoes, twelve geckoes that had dropped their tails in an effort to escape capture, and fifteen geckoes that he'd chewed on a little. Only one of the geckoes was gray, chewed on, and tailless; two were gray and tailless but not chewed on; two were gray and chewed on but not tailless. If there were a total of 24 geckoes left on my carpet that month, and all of the geckoes were at least one of "gray", "tailless", and "chewed on", how many were tailless and chewed on but not gray?'" I asked the person who walked into the room. There was silence for half a second.
"Three." The person replied softly. I didn't look up from her paper.
"I scored three goals against Fairfax today." I said softly.
"Good job." I looked up.
"Hi, mom." I said quietly, but smiling. Abby Cameron smiled at her eleven year old daughter.
"Hey, kiddo." I looked at my mom, looking amazing in her perfectly tailored Armani suit.
"How was China?" I asked her. She sighed, and sat in the seat next to me.
"Interesting. The flight there was long." I nodded. My mother had been gone for three months, yet she didn't say anything about her trip. She always did that.
"How long are you back for?" I asked her, putting my math homework back in my folder.
"A week."
"I've missed you." Abby smiled.
"I missed you, too." She replied, hugging her daughter. "Listen: I've given everyone the night off. It's just you and me, kid. We can do whatever you want." By "everyone", she meant the maids, butlers, cooks, nannies, drivers, and gardeners that all worked in their huge Georgetown, Washington, DC brownstone.
"Really?" I asked, surprised.
"Yep, so, are you hungry?"
"No. Lorenzo made dinner an hour ago, Spaghetti."
"Thank god. I can't make spaghetti for my life."
"That's why you hired a cook, remember." I laughed. I had been a victim to her many cooking disasters.
"Exactly."
"Can we make cookies?" I asked my mother. My mom frowned.
"Um…"
"I can show you."
"Okay." I began to take out butter, sugar, and flour. I began to add some of the flour to the bowl when I stopped, took a handful, and threw it at my mother. I started to laugh, but she stopped then my mom cracked an egg on her daughters head. The both began laughing, and throwing ingredients at each other, until there was nothing left. Abby's hair was dripping is egg, and her black suit covered in flour. I was covered from head to toe in cinnamon. We sat down at the counter, laughing.
"Oh, god. Look at the mess." mom exclaimed, scanning the kitchen, which was covered by cookie ingredients.
"Guess we'll need a maid after all." I laughed.
"Do you just want to get changed and watch a movie instead?"
"Sure." In two minutes, I was downstairs in a black cami and pink flannel pajama pants, putting popcorn in the microwave, and then emptying it in a bowl. By the time my mother finally appeared downstairs, in a dark green tank top and white sweatpants, I had already popped in Breakfast at Tiffany's.
"Classic." my mother said, commenting on the movie choice, sitting on the couch, and grabbing a handful of organic popcorn. We watched the movie in the dark, in silence for a while.
"I had to do a report in school about someone I admire." I said softly, half of her focus on the movie.
"Really?"
"I did it about you." my mom looked directly back at me. Our resemblance was remarkable. The same emerald eyes, same porcelain skin, same long, dark brown hair.
"You did?" she asked, I nodded.
"My teacher, Mr. Klein, liked it very much. He said he would love to meet you one day." Abby continued to eat popcorn. "He's 30, very cute, and very single…" She laughed.
"Caity, I don't think trying to set me up with your English teacher is going to work." Her daughter sighed.
"I told them about how whenever you're home, you practice soccer with me. I told them about the time when you were only in DC for a few hours, and called me out of class so we could go to the Smithsonian Castle, our favorite place in the world next to Pinkberry and Chanel. I showed the class the picture of us in Cairo. He says it's good that I've been exposed to culture." for some reason mom scoffed. I smiled, but it soon faded. "Why do you have to go away so much?"
(Abby POV)
"My job is very important, Caitlin. I work so much because I love my job very, very much."
"Who do you love more: your job, or me?" Caitlin retorted.
"Caitlin, please. You know I would give up my job in a heartbeat for you. No matter how much I love it, you come first." I replied sternly.
"No offense, the CEO of an advertising agency would not love there job THAT much." I bit my tongue. I had not told my daughter that I worked with the CIA. I was away for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and I was only home for at most five weeks at once.
"I have a new project for Humanities."
"Really, what?"
"I have to make a family tree." I didn't respond, so Caitlin continued. "I thought about making an alternative family tree, with Victoria, Alex, Blake, Ben, and Dezi, because they really are like my family. They sometimes come over for Christmas, they give me cool presents, they take me to soccer games and take me shopping, they come to my birthday parties, they come to my soccer games, but they aren't my real family. So I decided to make a real family tree, but I don't know where to begin, because I DON'T KNOW MY REAL FAMILY."
"Caitlin…"
"I've never met my grandparents, or anyone else in my immediate family. I don't even know my father. I don't know his name, where he lives, or if he even knows that I exist. How the hell am I supposed to make a family tree when my family is non existent in my life?"
"You can't." I replied quietly.
"EXACTLY!" My daughter started to rapidly eat popcorn in frustration.
"Slow down." I replied calmly.
"Will I ever get to meet them?" Caitlin asked after a few silent minutes.
"Yes."
"When?"
"How about tomorrow? No games?"
"TOMORROW?"
"What's wrong with tomorrow?" I blinked.
"No, tomorrow's perfect. They live near here?"
"Roseville, Virginia."
"And you never told me?" Caitlin frowned.
"You never asked." I shrugged.
"Will I get to meet my father?" I sighed.
"Possibly…If I decide I want to talk to him." Caitlin smiled in satisfaction, and cuddled up against me.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."