Chapter 02 - A New Beginning
Four years later
"How many times have I told you to stop that disgusting habit?"
"I'm sorry," the dark-haired girl apologized abashed and looked at her fingernails. "I'm just nervous."
"Well, don't be," Mrs. Prentiss said harshly. "It's not like you've never been in this town before."
Emily bit her lip and looked down; arguing with her mother was a waste of energy, so she kept quiet. She tried to focus on something else than the sudden pangs in her stomach, but failed altogether. Why was she so easily thrown off-balance? If she couldn't control her nervousness, there was no point in pursuing the career her parents had chosen for her - or any career, for that matter. She wiped the sweat from her hands, clenched them into fists, and closed her eyes. After three near breakdowns and constant swearing on her mother's part because of the traffic, the car finally came to a halt. Here it was: this was home for the next two years. It was an ancient, yet shiny Victorian house that had been her grandmother's until she had died three years ago. Knowing how much the older Prentiss hated to wait, Emily got out of the car. Her suitcases were already waiting on the sidewalk.
"Hurry!" Elizabeth Prentiss bawled at her. "I have to drive back to the airport."
"Yes, ma'am," the girl sighed.
"Don't call me ma'am, I am your mother."
"Yes, mother."
But Ambassador Prentiss was already at the house's door, frantically pushing the doorbell as if a pack of wolves was chasing her. It took not long for a butler in a dark suit to appear, looking just a tad irritated. Without exchanging any courtesies, Elizabeth handed him one of the suitcases and turned to her daughter.
"Emily, I want you to remember what we talked about on the plane," she said sternly. "Make your father and me proud. You are a Prentiss, after all. Never forget that."
"I won't," the girl promised faintly, not daring to look straight into her mother's eyes.
Elizabeth made a funny looking movement, as though she had wanted to pull her daughter into an embrace but had restrained herself at the last moment.
"Well, goodbye," she said limply, in a way that bore much resemblance to a farewell said four years ago. Except that then, the prospect of leaving her best friend behind had broken Emily's heart. She wasn't so sure the ambassador felt the same way about her.
"Goodbye, mother," she whispered and blinked rapidly, watching the black car drive away through a blurry veil.
"Miss Prentiss?"
Emily turned around, confused. Had she been standing in the cold all this time?
"Sorry," she muttered.
"You don't have to apologize, dear," the man said warmly, which made the girl feel better immediately. "Here you go."
"Thanks, Henry. Please, don't call me Miss, it makes me feel old," she requested timidly and wiped away her tears with his handkerchief.
Henry chuckled and gave her a wink of encouragement. "As you wish. Please, come on in. The table is already set, I daresay you must be hungry after the long flight."
Emily gave him a grateful smile and followed him into the house.
"Thank you so much, it was delicious." Emily wasn't exaggerating, this was probably the most delightful dinner she had enjoyed in her whole life.
"I will tell Berta you appreciate her cooking skills, Miss... I mean Emily," Henry promptly corrected himself, while he removed the dishes from the table. The brunette jumped to her feet and hurried to help him, nearly tripping over the carpet.
"Careful there."
The teenager blushed slightly and handed him her plate. "I think I'm going to bed," she said nervously. "I want to be rested tomorrow." Her stomach twitched; she dreaded the next day more than anything in the world, and she couldn't even snitch some sleeping pills from her mother's cabinet to make it through the night unhinged.
Two hours later, Emily was laying in a big, comfortable bed, in the room that had belonged to her mother when she was little. She was glad she had brought her own bedclothes. They were warm and soft, and they reminded her of "home", wherever that was. Suddenly, a wonderful thought entered her mind. She got up and opened her backpack, where she had put her most valuable possessions. There it was, wrapped in between two old t-shirts to prevent the glass from breaking. With the utmost caution, as though it could fall apart just by touching it, she put the framed photograph on the bedside table, her eyes glimmering as she looked at it. Soon afterward, she gently drove off to dreamland and on that particular night, no nightmares bothered her.
