Chapter 9 - The Needs of the Many
If the 'great revelation' of my heritage had been surreal, then the days that followed were oddly mundane. The Cullen clan left me alone, respecting my need for distance as I processed the reality of my situation. Their absence granted me the opportunity to tear apart my grandmother's house, searching for some shred of evidence which might support the 'truth' that had been presented to me on that cloudy September afternoon.
In the end, all I found were Swan family artifacts, mementos of life gone by. Box after box of old albums, the photographs safely packaged to avoid moisture or bugs. A vintage wedding dress, circa 1920, wrapped in plastic, the soft white satin and lace yellowed with age. Tucked in the back corner of the attic was an old phonograph and records, which I lugged down to the living room. After a liberal application of furniture polish, I restored the ancient machine to its earlier glory, and sat it up proudly on a table in the corner.
Charlie let me stew for two days before showing up on my doorstep with pizza and a six pack of beer. He insisted we needed to establish a Friday night tradition, and that this was a good way to start. After dinner, we flipped through the old photos as he told me stories about his parents and my uncle, who died when Charlie was little. Nothing was mentioned about the trust or the Cullens, even though my birthday was just a few days away.
I spent the rest of the weekend by myself, trying to read and cleaning the house in an anticlimactic countdown to Monday morning. I awoke at six thirty on Monday, September thirteenth with a sinking sense of dread. Unlucky thirteen, my mother had always joked. She'd been right.
The phone rang at eight, forcing me to get out of bed to retrieve my cell phone from the kitchen.
"Hello?" I mumbled groggily.
"Happy Birthday, baby," Renee said. She was reserved in her greeting, bypassing her typical, effusive bubbling. "You're all grown up now, Marie."
"Bella," I corrected her. "It's Bella. Marie is my middle name."
"After my mother," Renee said, not missing a beat. "Isabella Helen didn't roll as well. You were named after an actress, you know. "
We were both quiet for a long time, the line that connected us hissing as the cell packets relayed across the country, reinforcing the physical and emotional distance that lay between us.
"Your father is a good man," Renee started slowly. "I never wanted to say anything bad about him, but you kept asking. I had to come up with something that would make you drop it. I never wanted to lie to you."
"But you did lie to me. You said he didn't want me."
"One lie versus one thousand," Renee said sadly. "I needed to get you away from there, Marie-"
"Bella," I corrected her. "My name is Bella."
She sighed, "I know I failed at a lot of things, baby, but I've always loved you, and I did everything I could to keep those…those…things away from you. They don't care about you. They see a symbol, something they can use. You deserve more than that."
"Dad said something similar," I told her, ignoring her quick intake of breath when I referred to Charlie as my father. "That you did what you did because you loved me." I didn't acknowledge her attack on the Cullens. I'd called them something similar, but to give voice to her concerns wouldn't have been fair. Truth be told, I wasn't quite sure how I felt about them, but they deserved better than what we'd called them.
"How is Charlie?" Renee asked. Her voice was softer, almost wistful, and it made me sad. I would never know what really transpired between my parents, let alone if they'd ever stood a chance in the first place. If it weren't for this whole convoluted prophecy, would they have stayed together? Would I even be here?
"I like him in a weird sort of way. He's the Police Chief in Forks now. He was all turned around at how much I looked like you, but he said that I had my-"
"Grandmother Helen's hair," she said. "He always joked it was no fair how much you looked like me. The hair thing was a way to lay claim to you."
There was an awkward silence as we both struggled for what to say next. There was no rulebook for awkward family situations, let alone something as surreal as the place we found ourselves in.
"Listen, Mom, there was a trust set up for me. With conditions," I said, intentionally ending the statement there.
"I know. I talked to Mom not too long before she died and she told me about it," Renee admitted. I could imagine her sitting in her kitchen, doodling on a notepad to fill the silence. "Are you going to stay?"
"I'm not sure," I said, although we both knew that was a lie. "Here or there, I don't think anyone's really going to let me walk away, you know? Just like I don't think you hid me as well as you thought."
"Maybe not," she conceded, "But you understand why I had to try?"
In less than two weeks, I'd gone from one extreme to the other as I tried to cope with Renee's betrayal. It was only in the last day or so that I'd managed to find it in myself to empathize and forgive. I kept thinking about the little boy following his mother across the street, jumping in and out of her shadow for entertainment. Even in the bright light of the desert, there would be shadows. Running wouldn't keep me safe, just prolong the inevitable.
"Yeah, Mom, I do get it. And I'm going to be okay, you know that don't you?"
"Yeah," she said, trying to sound upbeat, but I could tell she was crying. "You are more than okay, you are amazing. How could you be anything else?"
I had a right to feel a lot of things, but what stood out to me most was sadness. Renee had made her own sacrifices to keep me safe. They weren't all the best choices, but they'd been made with the best of intentions. We'd grown up together, and the person I'd become, good, bad or otherwise, was because of her. She didn't deserve my anger.
"I love you, Mom," I said, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time I got to say that to her.
"I love you too, Isabella."
Ω Ω Ω
In total, there were three surprises the day of my birthday. Renee's phone call and subsequent admission had been the first.
The second arrived just moments before the third.
As I stood in the living room, reading the message scrawled on a white florist's card, Charlie pushed open the door, his arms loaded down with bags.
"It's not your birthday until you make a wish!" he'd insisted, shepherding me into the kitchen where he stuck a candle in a cupcake. Somehow he knew that yellow cake with butter cream frosting would be my favorite.
After I made my wish and blew out the candle, he passed me a small black velvet box. Inside was a gold locket, the small oval engraved with an elegant script S.
"It was your Grandmother Helen's," he said, his voice husky. "It was a wedding present from my father."
We sat in the kitchen, and he told me more stories about my family. Not once did he comment on the elaborate floral arrangement that sat on the dining room table, the garish pinks and yellows of hot house flowers out of sync with the simpler, elegant furnishings. The card that had accompanied them was safely stashed in my pocket, the message burned in my mind.
I shall see you soon.
There had been no signature to tell me who they were from.
That evening, after another round of pizza, Charlie sat next to me as I called to inform Rosalie Hale I would be staying in Forks. If she was surprised by my decision, she betrayed no emotion.
"I'll drop by with some papers for you to sign tomorrow."
"If you don't mind, I'll come to you. I'm having lunch with my father," I replied. I still wasn't sold on their grand plan for me, but I was not going to waste another minute getting to know the man who'd sacrificed twenty years so that I could have a normal life.
Ω Ω Ω
Four days after my birthday, on September seventeenth, Jasper arrived on my door step, his arms loaded down with boxes. He'd gone to Phoenix to retrieve personal effects from my apartment. Everything else would be sold off or placed in storage until such time as I wanted to reclaim it. My resignation had been tendered at the bookstore, and I was officially free of any ties to Phoenix, Arizona, the desert, or anything else related to one hundred degree weather.
I waited patiently as Jasper lowered the stack of boxes to the dining room table. He was dressed in what I'd come to know as his every day clothes. Jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, which made him look like the average college or post grad student. No one would have ever guessed what he really was.
"It's time," Jasper said, dusting off his hands. No other preamble was needed. The council was here, and the proverbial moment of truth had arrived.
I locked the door and followed him down the walkway to a sleek black car. The interior was elegant, with soft ivory leather and a burled wood dash. Unlike the Suburban, this automobile was made for business, and lent an air of gravitas to the situation. This wasn't some college kid being schlepped home from the airport, it was something much larger.
"Are you nervous?" Jasper asked as he gunned the engine.
"Terrified. Who wouldn't be?"
He laughed, and slowly eased the car out onto the street. "Good, 'cause I would've known if you were lying to me, ma'am."
"That's because you're Captain Whitlock," I said as I closed my eyes, searching for a calm that wouldn't come. "Captain Whitlock knows all."
"Major."
"Major Whitlock," I amended. "You are like the walrus, Kookookachoo."
"May God rest his soul," Jasper said with reverence. "And channel that thought, John Lennon
is just the vibe you need to have going on right now."
"Asking everyone to make love, not war?" I said, holding up a peace sign, "Or would that be lying in bed naked while people take pictures of my love in?"
He snorted. It was the first time he'd shown any outward sign of true amusement. "It takes a lot to slow down this crowd, Bella. You're good, but not even you are that good."
"All in time," I said, taking a deep breath and trying to find some kind of inner peace. Kookookachoo my ass.
We didn't speak for the rest of the ride. Just like my first visit to the Cullen home, the drive came up suddenly, the turn appearing from out of nowhere.
"You'll be fine," Jasper reassured as we pulled into the large clearing in front of the white house. "Just be you."
"Me isn't very interesting," I admitted, studying the elegant façade and heavy wood door. On the other side waited a council of vampires, ready to take stock of me and decide what came next. The concept was so surreal it was laughable.
"You've led a double life, you've met vampires, and you're subject of a great prophecy. Everything else is old hat."
"Thank you, Jasper."
"For what?"
"For helping me find the confidence to face this," I said, too embarrassed to meet his eye.
"The confidence was always there, Bella. I just had to prod you a bit." Jasper nodded at the house. "Go bust on in there and kick a little ass. You're going to be perfectly-"
"Safe," we said in unison. Jasper held his hand up, and I gave it a quick slap before climbing out of the car.
I was at the top of the steps when Jasper called after me.
"I'd follow you," he said. "Just name the time and place, Bella Swan, and I will follow wherever you lead."
Glancing back over my shoulder, I gave him a half-hearted smile. Then I turned the giant brass door knob and stepped inside the house.
It wasn't at all like what I'd expected, giant skylights and picture windows reflecting ambient light off blonde wood floors and white carpet. There was a long hallway, lined with black and white photos of trees, flowers and other assorted wildlife. I followed the sound of voices, the long corridor ending at a large room filled with people sitting around in large leather chairs.
"Bella," Carlisle said, standing in greeting. "Please come in and meet our friends."
The other people in the room stood at his greeting, their hands all clasped politely behind their backs. They were all graceful and striking, their coloring and ethnicities different, but a preternatural beauty and pallor betrayed who and what they were.
Carlisle made quick introductions around the room. There was a tall, sandy haired man named Garrett, with a posture so relaxed he appeared apathetic. A stunningly beautiful woman named Tanya, who greeted me with a gentle nod of her head. A larger woman, called Siobhan, her soft blonde hair and lilting voice betraying her origin as somewhere in Ireland or Scotland.
The fourth man, apparently impatient, crossed the room to greet me, his jet black hair and sharp features a striking contrast to his soft, melodious voice. "Hello, Isabella," he said. His pronunciation made my name sound exotic, almost primal, the sibilant S and the extension of the –ella at the end making it much more attractive than it or I could ever be. "I am Eleazar. I cannot tell you how long I've looked forward to this moment."
He took my hand as he spoke, his palm turned upward so that he could cup my hand in his as he smiled down at me. His eyes reminded me of the tourmaline pendant that Phil had given Renee when she went through her artsy streak. I could remember him telling me that tourmaline fostered creativity.
"Fascinating," Eleazar said, his face full of wonder. "It's just as you said, Carlisle."
"We were all surprised," Carlisle admitted, smiling at me proudly. "Everything about Bella has been amazing."
Eleazar released my hand, his eyes sparkling with something that I could only call excitement, or maybe curiosity. "Isabella," he trilled, "We would like to interview you. To do so, we will be bringing some others into the room. This is not meant to scare or intimidate you in any way, do you understand?"
For the last week I'd tried to form some preconceived notion of what my interview would be like. A dark dungeon, black robes, burning candles even. Not a scene out of a home and garden magazine with proper etiquette and gentle behavior.
"Just don't tell me I'm going to be safe," I joked in a feeble attempt at covering up my nerves. "It's getting a little old."
The blonde man laughed, but I had the distinct feeling it was at me, not with me. His expression was similar to Eleazar's, full of curiosity, but that did not put me at ease. Perhaps it was the red eyes, which I understood now were indicative of his preference for human blood. Two of the five vampires in this room could very well turn me into a midday snack, and I was acutely aware that, for the first time, I could actually be in real danger. The reality of the situation crashed into me like a wrecking ball, my adrenaline spiking and heart racing as Garrett's nostrils flared. His eyes closed as his chest expanded. It was like he was breathing in my fear.
"Stop scaring the girl," Tanya insisted, slapping his foot off the edge of her chair. "You have the manners of a cretin."
"Old habits," Garrett said, smiling at me impishly. "Nothing personal you know."
Everyone fell silent as a small, red haired girl entered the room, followed by Jasper. He flashed me a quick wink before sitting down on the arm of Tanya's chair. Red eyes three, gold eyes four. I didn't like the ratio.
"Isabella," Eleazar said, reclaiming my attention. "This is Maggie. She is going to sit here and listen while Garrett asks you a few questions. Is that acceptable?"
"I can't really say no, can I?" I retorted, hating the way my voice shook. I was scared, and they all knew it.
Eleazar chuckled, and nodded to Garrett, who sprang from his chair, walking towards me in a long, loping stride. When no one else could see his face, he grinned at me, and sniffed the air. He was toying with me, trying to get a rise, and push to the limits. That's when something strange happened. Instead of frightening me more, I got mad. He was intentionally trying to intimidate me, playing on my knowledge of what he was to break me down. It reminded me of every arrogant man I'd ever run across, and it made my blood boil. I began to imagine the joy I would feel in taking him down a peg or two. The visual of throwing him across the yard, like Edward had with Emmett, brought a rush of satisfaction I could feel all the way to my fingertips.
Jasper snorted from his roost on the chair, his hand clamped over his mouth to hide a smile. Carlisle shot him a quick look, shaking his head in warning.
"So you are the little girl we are all expected to follow," Garrett said, his hands clasped behind his back as he circled me slowly. "Carlisle insists you are the one from the prophecy. I have to admit, I expected someone more…impressive."
He continued to survey me, taking my measure. "Tell me why I should follow you."
"Why would you want to?" I shot back, his attitude and arrogant tone irritating me. I focused on the irritation, forcing back my fear. He wanted me to be scared, and I wouldn't let him. "I didn't ask for this. I also don't make any declarations to you about what I am or am not. You're the ones that seem to want a savior."
Before I could say another word, Garrett was in my face, his vibrant red eyes full of a zealous gleam.
"I don't want a savior, little girl," he hissed, the dropping the R at the end of the word so that it sounded like 'say-v-yuh.' It reminded me of old interviews with John F. Kennedy, and I laughed at the irony. He was the great harbinger of democracy, felled by an assassin's bullet. Garrett was surprised by my reaction, his brown creasing in curiosity before recovering quickly. "I want freedom," he demanded, leaning just a little bit closer. "Can you give me that?"
"Why can't you take it yourself?" I retorted, my fear long gone. Garrett wasn't going to hurt me. He was trying to provoke a reaction; one that I would refuse to give him.
"I take a lot of things for myself," Garrett said, adjusting his attack. "You see my eyes. You know what I am. Does that give you pause?"
He wrinkled his nose, pretending to take another deep breath, but I stood my ground.
"I don't like what you do, but it's not my place to deny you your choices," I answered candidly. "So long as people don't get hurt and there is a greater good involved, I can accept the way you choose to live. Just like I can accept other people might not like my choices. I think that's called living in a democracy."
Garrett smiled, his red eyes full of wisdom. If he was impressed by my answers, he didn't show it. "The needs of the many versus the needs of the few - does that make you a diplomat?"
"No, I'm a college student who took a few history classes," I glanced at Carlisle, hoping that he would step in, but he did nothing.
"Well we aren't living in a democracy, little girl. More like an totalitarian regime, and I for one I am very tired of-"
"That's enough," Tanya said, leaning forward in her chair. "Stop running her in circles. I've heard everything I need. It's time to decide what comes next."
"Bella, there's a kitchen at the other end of the hallway, fully stocked with anything you could desire. Would you mind waiting for us there?" Carlisle framed his query as a request, but I didn't need to be asked twice, I was more than happy to get away from Garrett's probing questions and scary eyes.
I left the room at a brisk pace, my footsteps muted by thick carpet as I passed a large music room. Through an archway I could see a cavernous kitchen, filled with stainless steel appliances and a long farm house style table. It was like something out of a home decoration magazine, replete with a large bowl of fruit on the counter.
"This is nuts," I said as I sat down on the edge of the chair. My adrenaline rush was fading, and I licked my lips, which were dry and cracked. I had a habit of chewing on them, pulling at the dry strips of skin until I made myself bleed, but I forced myself to abstain today. Drawing blood in a houseful of vampires, vegetarian or not, would not be the smartest move. Instead, I closed my eyes, focusing on Garrett's questions. He'd been prodding at me, trying to provoke me, but to what end? His questions, while irritating, had been fair in concept. Was this all to see what type of leader I'd be? If I'd buckle under the pressure? I didn't understand the game they were playing, but there was only one way to find out.
I stood and tiptoed to the doorway, pressing my back against the wall so I could listen to the voices that drifted down the hallway from the living room.
"…others will rally around her, you know that, Tanya," Garrett insisted. I could imagine him pacing around, waving his hands in righteous indignation.
"He's right," Carlisle concurred. "People will flock to her, and it will create an organized dissent. We can use that to force change."
"They won't go down without a fight," Siobhan said calmly. It might have been my imagination, but her heavy brogue made the words sound harsh and inflammatory, like that was exactly what she wanted them to do.
"If the show of force is big enough, they might not have a choice," Garrett countered. "We can break them down on number alone."
"Says the man who was borne of war," Tanya interjected.
"I've watched enough wars to know that brute force is not always the best option," Garrett shot back at her. "Especially for people that are desperate to save-"
"Enough," Eleazar said, cutting off all conversation. "We all agree that Bella is the one. She fits the prophecy, and she has skills that will prepare her for our life. She needs to be changed immediately. We do not have a minute to spare. She is already twenty-three, and I'm surprised they have not descended on this town yet."
There was an outbreak of chatter, over which Garrett's voice won out.
"And I assume you will want to be the one to change her?" he said, venom dripping from his voice. "Is that where you are going with this, amigo?"
"Better me than one who is accustomed to drinking from humans. You would most likely drain her, not change-"
I'd been so wrapped up in the conversation that I didn't hear Edward approach until he was right next to me. He tapped my arm, his index finger pressed against his lips to keep me quiet. When I nodded, he took my hand and led me down the long hallway and out of the house, the door silently clicking shut behind us.
"Are you okay?" he asked as we walked quickly across the clearing. There was a barn like structure hidden under the trees; the doors were open to reveal an array of cars.
"I don't know," I admitted, still confused by the conversation I'd overheard. "When they say change me, they are talking about making me one of you, right?"
"Get in," Edward said, yanking open the door of a small silver sedan. "I'll explain on the way."
"On the way where?"
"I'm taking you home. You don't need to sit there and listen to a bunch of theoretical revolutionaries play God with your life."
I didn't argue, happily allowing Edward to play knight in shining armor and sweep me away from the surreal scene playing out at the house. He drove without talking, allowing me to recap the strange conversation I'd eavesdropped on. These people were dead set on my role in their great insurgency, and were ready to turn me into one of them. My self-preservation instincts should have kicked in with that, instilling some fight or flight mentality at my pending mortality, but they never came. That's when I realized they never would.
For years I'd floated along, never truly fitting in. The only person that had ever needed or wanted me was my mother. She'd released me when she thought I was safe, moving to Jacksonville with her husband to pursue her own life. I'd come to Forks, hoping to find that piece of me that had been missing. I'd jumped at a small glimmer of hope, the idea that I could find a place where I belonged. In a strange, warped way I had, it just wasn't at all like I'd expected.
"I wish I could read your mind," Edward said. His voice was soft and wistful. "I can't begin to imagine what you are thinking."
"None of it would make much sense right now," I admitted, leaning my forehead against the window. The glass was cold, and reminded me of Eleazar's firm grasp. "It's the mental equivalent of doodles."
"You amaze me, you know that?" Edward said, and I fought the urge to press my fingers against his vocal cords to see if his words felt like they sounded, slightly rough and warm. "I wonder how I would have handled myself were I given a choice. Carlisle claims he changed me to save me, but I can't help wondering if this is a fate worse than death."
"If you are trying to make me feel better, you are doing a lousy job, Edward." It wasn't true - he was distracting me merely by his presence. The people at the house were long gone; my attention completely wrapped up on the quiet, enigmatic man who had stormed in, insisting he was taking me home. "And I'll pretend not to be offended by your fate worse than death comment."
He laughed quietly and shook his head. "I didn't mean you. It's this life. Carlisle feels he saved all of us in some form or fashion. I was dying from Spanish Influenza. Rosalie had been attacked and left for dead. Emmett was mauled by a bear. Esme lay dying at the bottom of a cliff. He claimed we were all worthy of redemption, capable of some great good. Carlisle likes to go on and on about the power of humanity and our responsibility to lead a better life, but I'm not so sure. Are we still human, Bella? Can we really help this world, or is this all some naïve romantic concept? Will mankind accept what we have to offer, or are they as much the monsters as they believe us to be?"
I stared out the window, trying to find the right response. I could give him platitudes, tell him that everything would be okay, but we both knew that wasn't the truth. Life required people to take leaps of faith, and trust that it would all work out. It was a scary concept, giving someone the power that came with blind trust, but it reminded me of something Renee used to say with each and every move. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"There are woulda's and coulda's," I said softly, trying not to laugh at my childish analogy. "You can spend your days thinking about them, or you can do something. At the end of the day, I think everyone worries about the what if's – that's why philosophy and religion exist. You can't have good without bad. The challenge is striking balance, and acting is part of that." I turned to face forward, extending my arm, so that I could rest my hand on top of his of his knee. "Sometimes you just have to trust. Right now I am trusting that you don't see me as lunch."
The corner of Edward's mouth quirked up into the tiniest hint of a grin, and he spread his fingers over the top of my hand, twining his together with mine so that I couldn't pull away.
"You of all people shouldn't trust us," he said, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Maybe I am a bad judge of character," I conceded, squeezing his hand. I tried not to notice the way the muscles and tendons didn't give at the pressure, or how cold his skin was. It would only remind me of our differences. If I held on long enough, the heat of my skin would start to sink into his, making Edward feel normal. At least to me.
I stared out the window, letting my mind play what if with this strange little scenario. What if Edward was a normal man and none of this had ever happened. Would we still be here, talking about mundane things or going on a date? Was that type of life even possible for me? How much control did I have and how much was pre-ordained?
"You know, in some states this is illegal," Edward joked as he pulled up in front of my house, bursting my little bubble of what if. "Physically, I'm frozen at seventeen."
"Veritable jailbait," I teased, trying to maintain his valiant attempt at humor. "Good thing I know some people in this town. Think they can pull strings for me?"
He laughed quietly, his thumb running slowly across the backs of my knuckles. It raised a trail of goose flesh on the back of my arm.
"Edward," I asked, curious at his admission, "When were you born?"
He parked the car in front of my house and turned off the ignition and angling his body to face me. "1901. I became this…" he gestured towards his torso, "in 1918."
"That would explain the funky speech," I said, my brain unable to wrap around the years he gave me. "I thought you were just going overboard on the Prince Charming thing."
"I haven't tried to be charming," he teased. "You have a way of making that difficult."
The comment about difficult brought to mind Garrett and his blood red eyes. It was a reminder of Edward's true nature, and the constant risk that I'd never truly appreciated until now. "Edward," I asked hesitantly, "is it difficult, being around me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Because I'm human. You don't want to…" I frowned trying to find the right way to ask the question. Finally I gave up and clicked my teeth together twice, a visualization of my thought process.
"Yes," he admitted, quickly looking away. "I want to. That day you broke the glass, I don't know if…I don't think I could have resisted your blood. We abstain, but the way you smell, it's just..."
He didn't finish his statement. It hung in the air between us, making me all too aware of my breathing and the frenetic beating of my heart.
"I guess that makes me irresistible." My weak attempt at a joke fell short, and Edward pulled his hand away. "No one's ever said that before. It's kind of nice."
"You are," Edward admitted, casting a quick glance in my direction. His expression was different from Garrett's, the hunger mixed with wonder and confusion. It gave me hope and spurred me into action, completely disregarding this nature. I quickly brought my index and middle fingers to my lips, and kissed them. Then I turned my palm toward Edward, pressing the kiss to his cheek. As I touched him, I could hear the popping of metal and leather as he squeezed the armrest, the car taking the punishment he wanted to unleash on me.
He sees you as food, Bella, I chastised myself. You don't mean anything to him.
In a flash, I was out of the car, running up the drive. I'd tempted fate. I needed to live to tell about it.
"Bella, wait!" Edward called after me, but it was too late.
As I went to insert the key in the lock, the pressure forced the door to swing open.
A man stood in the middle of my living room. He was dressed in all black with red eyes, like the ones that haunted my dreams.
"Ah, the lovely Isabella Swan," he said, his tone sickeningly sweet. "Please do come in, I've so looked forward to meeting you."