Just FYI, I will probably not be updating tomorrow, due to some family matter we have going on. Hopefully, I will be able to update again on Saturday.
One of you asked if I had my stories written out completely beforehand, or at least a few chapters written out ahead of time.
The answer is no; I write a chapter every day and post it the next usually, after reading it through a couple times. I can only do this because, due to quarantine, I have had nothing to do except school and write. Once this quarantine is over, I will not be posting daily, more than likely.
R&R
I do not own most of the characters, nor most of the plot. I merely adapted it.
CHAPTER 20
As they rose higher and higher up the hill, so did Annabeth's mood rise also. She hadn't exactly been excited about the prospect of seeing the Callisto estate, but if the house was anything compared to the beauty of the park that they had seen so far, well… she couldn't help but get enthusiastic. The small path wound through little patches of trees and small meadows, as the hill ever so slightly ascended towards the top. Eventually, after driving for about half a mile, they came to what looked like a large canopy of woods, with an intricate pathway carved through them. The trio were flabbergasted by the scenery they had already observed driving through the park, but when they finally emerged on the other side of the woods, their breath was taken away.
Malcolm pulled the car over to the side of the pathway, so as to give them all a moment to appreciate what lay before them.
The mansion sat on the other side of a small valley, atop a low ridge, that ran just above a beautiful stream swelling into a small lake a little farther on down the hill. It was a gorgeous, white limestone structure, with a sloped, reddish terracotta roof, built in the style of an Italian villa in some ways. It was adorned with Greek-style columns, and the façade provided an inviting, yet distinctly regal character.
(if you wish to know what I envision for the Callisto estate, google hills and dales estate)
As Annabeth looked down from the house towards the stream and pond, she could see that pleasant little pathways crisscrossed their way through simple, but delightful gardens that added a human element to the whole scenery, but did little to negate the natural touch of the place. It blended together in such a way that only an architect as dedicated as Annabeth could appreciate. Needless to say, the blonde girl was absolutely thrilled with the place.
She had seen some exquisite houses that day, but never had she seen a house that complimented the environment around it in such a natural way. Annabeth immediately thought of Rosings Park, and how it focused solely on the manmade element; the contemporary architecture, combined with the lawns that were rudely cut and shaped. It was indescribable how contrasting the estate of Lady Hera was to that of the Callisto.
"I daresay," Claire was the first to speak up of any of them, "that it may be worth putting up with Mr. Jackson, just to be the lady of Callisto."
"Whoever she may turn out to be," Malcolm replied, "I cannot say I pity her. Not when she gets to call this place 'home'."
"Indeed, though I don't think it shall matter that much, as she is not likely to be anyone that we're familiar with."
The entire time they were speaking, Annabeth couldn't help but notice the cruel irony of it all. Imagine what her cousins would say if they knew that Mr. Jackson had, at one point, asked the very girl they were vacationing with, out on a date.
As they continued their approach on up the pathway, Annabeth dreaded the moment when she should find out if Malcolm's information had been correct or not. If Mr. Jackson was truly not present at the moment. As they drew closer to the front, she was able to take in much more details of the house, and her appreciation only grew. In front of the house, the driveway circled around a large fountain, and off to the side, somewhat hidden behind the house, was a large one-story structure that looked a lot like a garage.
"So, how do we do this?" Claire asked as they all stepped out of their car.
"I assume," Malcolm replied, "that we just go up and ring the doorbell."
"Yes," his wife said unenthusiastically, "Let's just ring the doorbell of Perseus Jackson, CEO of Poseidon Enterprises."
"Do you have a better idea?"
Claire looked to Annabeth for help, and the blonde girl could only shrug. "Don't look at me."
The three of them approached the front door, with Malcolm and Claire dressed in somewhat comfier attire, and Annabeth still in her whitewash jean shorts, crochet blouse, and her swimsuit still on underneath. She prayed deeply that Mr. Jackson would not be here, as her outfit would only add to the embarrassment.
Malcolm rang the doorbell, and they waited patiently for someone to answer.
Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, as the person who eventually opened the door was definitely not Perseus Jackson. It was an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, with a respectable demeanor about her. She greeted them with a kindly expression, which made Annabeth feel a lot better about having intruded on this woman's privacy.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Malcolm said politely, "Are you the housekeeper here?"
The woman's eyes lit up with excitement at this question.
"That I am," she replied, with a much sweeter, and friendlier tone than Annabeth had expected of anyone who was involved with Perseus Jackson.
The lady beckoned them inside after they inquired of a tour of the place, and it seemed that so far, Malcolm's intelligence had not been incorrect. The woman introduced herself to them, but none of the group was able to listen, as their attentions were drawn to the spectacle around them.
The inside of the house was just as grand as the outside, with each new room they surveyed being just as exquisite as the last. All were decorated quite tastefully; nothing tacky, or out of place from the rest of house. As they made their way into a large dining parlor near the front, Annabeth took a moment to gaze out one of the windows that prospected down towards the lake. The view was immaculate, as the lake shimmered in the sunlight, with a fine stretch of lush woods embracing it from the other direction.
"And to think,", she whispered softly to herself, "That all of this could have been mine as well, at some point."
Annabeth found herself having to remember just how unpleasant the owner of this grand estate normally was. It was a lucky thing she did, otherwise she may have felt something that would classify her as a 'gold-digger', something most people would call regret.
As she turned to join back with the rest of the group, Annabeth couldn't stop herself from asking, "Is Mr. Jackson not here at the moment?" She just had to be sure that they were indeed in no danger of meeting him.
"I'm afraid not," the housekeeper said kindly, "But he'll be back tomorrow morning, along with some of his friends."
She led them through a small hallway, and into a long, expansive gallery, ordained with large paintings and pictures everywhere. Annabeth could only imagine what Rachel would have thought of the place.
The visitors took their time scouring over some of the pictures, asking random questions to the housekeeper, who always answered with the highest pleasantries.
"Annabeth, come here for a minute," Claire called out, and the blonde woman moved to join her. She was staring at a random assortment of portraits, one of which Annabeth immediately recognized as Mr. Jackson. But her eyes grew wide as Claire pointed out another portrait in particular.
"Isn't that Dr. Castellan there?"
Indeed it was, a picture of the very man from back when he was probably still in high school. His features were very nearly the same, but he lacked the small scar that ran down his cheek, and his face had not matured completely yet.
The housekeeper, upon hearing Mrs. Pace's inquiry, moved to join the other women, and came to stand next to them. Annabeth turned as she felt the woman's presence appear next to her, and she saw the housekeeper's normally sparkling eyes darken a little bit, as she beheld the picture that had captured Claire's interest.
"Oh, yes, that is one of Mr. Jackson's old friends, who was the son of his father's steward. He used to be such a sweet boy, but now, I'm afraid he's turned out rather… wild."
Upon hearing these words, Claire looked at Annabeth with a knowing smirk, but the steely-eyed girl could not return the sentiment, as she knew that the housekeeper's word were accurate in this instance.
The older lady now pointed to the picture of Mr. Jackson, the gleam returning to her eyes as she did so.
"And that is my boss, Perseus Jackson, from back when he was in high school as well."
Annabeth inspected the picture closely. It was indeed the same man as before, but at the same time, a different person altogether. There was no pride in his swirling sea-green eyes, nor was there any contempt in his countenance. He was just a carefree, naïve teenage boy, with a dazzling, troublemaker smile. He still had the same mop of unruly black hair though.
"Well, Annabeth," Claire said abruptly, "What do you think? Does he still look the same?"
At these words, the housekeeper turned to give Annabeth a surprised look.
"Excuse me, do you know Mr. Jackson personally?"
Annabeth felt herself blush a little bit, as she answered softly, "I've met him a couple times."
"Ah," the lady replied, smirking a little bit to herself, "Then I'm sure you'll agree that he is quite the looker, is he not?"
"I-I… uh…" Annabeth stuttered, as her face was now beet red, which caused the housekeeper to chuckle a little bit.
"I'm just teasing you. It's not every day I meet a striking young lady who is familiar with my boss."
Her compliment did nothing to help Annabeth's embarrassment, and she could hear her cousin and his wife giggling at her expense. As they continued on down the gallery, the housekeeper pointed out a couple more pictures. One was a larger portrait of Mr. Jackson that had been taken a lot more recently, and the other was of a young girl, probably when she was only about either years old.
"This," the housekeeper said as she pointed to the picture, "is Mr. Jackson's younger sister, Estelle Jackson."
Annabeth noticed that the girl did not share as much resemblance to Mr. Jackson as she would have expected. Her eyes were not the same sea-green, but instead, were a light shade of blue, and her hair was brown instead of black. Annabeth couldn't help but feel that she recognized some of the features of the girl, but it was hard to be sure.
As the tour continued on, Malcolm, with his easy-going attitude, routinely asked questions of the housekeeper, who, whether out of pride for her boss, or merely some sort of attachment, replied with great pleasure. She spoke with great fondness of Mr. Jackson and his sister, but it didn't seem like she was doing so only out of respect or admiration, but also as if she had a closer connection to both of the siblings.
"Is Mr. Jackson home often?" Claire asked randomly.
"Not as much as I wish he was," the housekeeper replied disappointedly, "He has a penthouse in Manhattan close to where his office is located, and he spends a lot of his time there. Miss Jackson comes by every now and then in between college classes, and is usually here for the entire summer."
"So he's committed to his work then?"
"Not exactly, I mean… yes, he works very hard. But I daresay that he just doesn't have a reason to be here all the time."
"You mean he doesn't have a wife?" Malcolm interpreted.
The housekeeper nodded solemnly, "Unfortunately, no. But it's not easy finding a wife when you're a billionaire, a good wife that is. And I honestly believe there is not a girl good enough for Perc- I mean, Mr. Jackson."
Annabeth, once again, found herself from speaking up.
"It says a lot about your boss that you speak so highly of him."
The housekeeper gave a friendly smile, as she shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm only speaking the truth. Anyone who truly knows him will say the same."
The praise she heaped on her boss was extraordinary, so much as to leave Annabeth overwhelmed and astonished.
"I have known Perseus Jackson all of his life, and he has always been the sweetest, most caring person I have ever met."
To hear something so contradictory to what Annabeth had truly believed for so long, to hear that he was not so vile, and was in fact, a good-natured man, it was quite unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
She found herself longing to hear more, and hear more she did. As they went on with the tour, the housekeeper found no reason to quit speaking highly of her landlord.
"He's such a kind and caring soul, a little stubborn sometimes, but that is of little consequence when you see how he behaves compared to most of the young men nowadays. Some venture to call him a proud man, but I cannot see how. My guess is it has something to do with the fact that he can be a bit shy around people he does not know well, or trust."
They walked on into the next room, and Annabeth felt Claire sidle up next to her, and whisper in her ear, "Are we sure this is the same Perseus Jackson you were telling me about?"
"You wouldn't be inclined to believe so, would you?"
Claire looped her arm through Annabeth's as they walked along behind Malcolm and the housekeeper.
"Surely, this cannot be the same guy who treated Dr. Castellan so poorly?"
"It's possible, that we have been misled."
"I can't bring myself to believe that just yet."
Annabeth felt her eyes droop a little bit, knowing that it was her fault that her cousins thought so ill of Mr. Jackson.
They were then led into a rather interesting room, that was covered with large drawings of anything and everything. In the middle of the room sat what looked like a brand-new drafting table, still unused by the looks of it.
"This is the 'drawing' room, as Mr. Jackson likes to call it," the housekeeper chuckled at her landlord's apparent pun. "He gave it to his sister for her to use whenever she likes, and the drawing desk that you see is brand-new, also a gift to his sister. Miss Jackson loves to draw in her free time, and is very proficient at it, I might add."
Annabeth, being a fan of drawing herself, could tell that the works hanging from the wall were done by no amateur artist.
"She must be very happy to have such a brother," the blonde girl noted.
"Oh, indeed," the housekeeper replied adoringly, "I'm sure if you asked Miss Jackson, she would say that there is not a better older brother to be found."
Annabeth was staring at one of the drawings, and she could tell with her keen eye, that it was a rendering of Mr. Jackson himself, drawn by his own sister. The light in which his sister presented him was, once again, so different compared to the way he presented himself. He had a soft, kind expression, and some semblance of that extremely rare smile, that probably only appeared when he was truly pleased. Annabeth could feel whatever little inklings of disdain that she still held for him melting away, and her opinion of him steadily grew, thanks to the remarkable acclamation of his housekeeper.
They walked on into a random foyer, and it seemed they were going to move on to the next room, but then a random picture caught Annabeth's eye, and she stopped to get a closer look.
It was a small picture, of a group of people standing in a couple lines, smiling at the camera. The front row of people all held a shovel in their hands, and they were making an obvious show of digging from the dirt in front of them. Judging by the suits and formal dresses they were all wearing, it seemed this was merely a photo op. The picture though, isn't what caught Annabeth's eye. It was the inscription written on a little plaque underneath the photo, just inside the frame.
Groundbreaking ceremony for Zoe's Community Center. A project funded by the 'Silena Beauregard and Charles Beckendorf Foundation'.
Annabeth almost collapsed, as she put a hand over her mouth in disbelief.
"Excuse me!" she called out, trying to get the attention of the housekeeper and her cousins, who had been walking off into the next room.
"Yes?" The housekeeper asked politely, as she walked back towards the astonished woman with a puzzled look.
Annabeth pointed to the picture sitting on the small table. "What is that?" She asked, somewhat demandingly.
"Oh, that? That is a project that was recently undertaken down in one of the poorer communities in the city. It was funded completely by the 'Silena Beauregard and Charles Beckendorf Foundation'."
"So, why is this picture here?" Annabeth asked, trying to get an answer as quickly as possible.
"Mr. Jackson is heavily invested in the foundation, and was attending the groundbreaking ceremony that took place a few months ago."
"So, Mr. Jackson is a part of this foundation?" Claire asked, as she and her husband had walked back to join the other two.
The housekeeper chuckled a little bit, "I wouldn't exactly say that, Mrs. Pace. He started the foundation."
Annabeth's eyes were about to bug out of her head, as she listened to the older woman explain.
"He started it soon after he graduated college and took over his father's company. I would say more, but Mr. Jackson doesn't like for me to brag about it; in fact, I'm technically not supposed to have that photo out. He keeps getting on to me about it, but I just like to be reminded of what sort of person he truly is."
The housekeeper took a step closer to the photo and pointed with her finger.
"You can see him hiding in back. They insisted he be in the photo, even though he would much rather have not been included. Mr. Jackson has never been one for the spotlight; he just wants to do good things for other. He never cared whether he got the credit or not."
Annabeth looked closer, and sure enough, there was Mr. Jackson, trying to be as discreet as he can, standing behind all the other ceremony attendees. It was so strange to think about how this was the same man who she had thought to be such an incredibly proud and haughty person. And yet, this day seemed to be intent on shattering every single one of the illusions that she had on for the man.
At that point, all areas of the house that were open to the viewing of the general public were exhausted, and the housekeeper informed them that the gardens were a phenomenal sight to explore. She led them out the back of the house, onto a large patio, with staircases running down either side to the ground level. From the patio, they could see the expanse of the colorful garden that adorned the back courtyard. Annabeth looked on past the garden, and she could make out a pathway that ran out from the garden, across the lawn, and towards a larger pathway, that looked to wind all along the edge of the woods.
When she asked the housekeeper about this, the lady confirmed that the pathway went all around the entire park.
Annabeth made her way into the garden on her own, as Malcolm and Claire accompanied the housekeeper, who was giving them a more thorough walkthrough of the courtyard. The blonde girl quickly pulled out her phone once she was a safe distance away, and immediately searched on the internet for the foundation she had just learned about.
She easily found the foundation's website, and clicked on it. On the main homepage, a little exposition was given regarding the foundation's goals and purpose.
The Silena Beauregard and Charles Beckendorf Foundation was founded to help support kids in the city of New York, who have any assortment of learning disabilities including, but not limited to, Dyslexia, ADHD, and other disabilities that inhibit cognitive functions.
Annabeth did some more digging, but despite how hard she tried, she could not find anything linking the foundation to Perseus Jackson, or any of the Jackson family.
He won't even take credit for his own foundation, Annabeth thought to herself.
She placed her phone back in her pocket, and decided then to just enjoy the scene that lay before her. As she walked along one of the little paths that led out of the garden and towards the one side of the house she had not yet beheld, Annabeth stared longingly out towards the woods that began at the end of the great lawn in front of her.
She then rounded the corner of the house, and she spotted a different structure out of the corner of her eye, and turned her full attention to it when she heard what sounded like a splash. There was a large pool, big enough to do laps in easily, with landscaping surrounding it, and what looked like a hot tub in one corner. But that was not what made Annabeth's eyes go wide.
It was the man pulling himself out of the pool that her grey orbs zoned in on.
….
Mr. Jackson grabbed the towel that was hanging on the nearby chair, and then began walking right in the direction of Annabeth, having still not spotted her, drying his hair as he walked. When his sea-green eyes finally did meet her stormy grey ones, his reaction was eerily similar to her own. He froze on the spot, not ten yards away, staring at her with a look of shock and surprise. Behind her, Annabeth heard what sounded like hushed gasps, which she assumed came from her cousin and his wife, and possibly the housekeeper as well.
Eventually, Mr. Jackson seemed to break free from the chains that had held him in one spot for so long, as he approached her, though Annabeth discovered she was still bound, as she couldn't bring herself to run away like she wanted to. Her mind then decided that this was a good time to process the fact that Mr. Jackson had just emerged from a pool, and was wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks. A pair of 'Finding Nemo' swim trunks. His towel that he had draped behind his neck and around his shoulders did not exactly fulfill its purpose of hiding his athletic swimmer's build very well.
Annabeth found herself blushing, for multiple reasons, not just because of the fact that Mr. Jackson was shirtless, and dripping wet as he approached her. Maybe it was also the fact that she was not dressed very appropriately either for this setting, as you could see the outline of her bikini top through her blouse stitches. Then, there was also the fact that she had just appeared suddenly at his estate for no reason, at least, no reason that wasn't redeemable for her in any way.
Though the man was obviously just as shocked and baffled as she was, he greeted her in a surprisingly calm and pleasant manner.
"Miss Chase, good to see you."
She returned the sentiment as least awkwardly as she could, and then Mr. Jackson began to inquire after her family, and her own wellbeing. Annabeth answered all of his questions, but she grew more embarrassed with each passing second, as she couldn't help thinking about how poorly this situation reflected on her. The man before her did not seem much more comfortable either, as he continuously shuffled from side to side, and rubbed his neck nervously. On more than one occasion, he asked a question that she had already answered previously.
After it seemed all other comments had been exhausted, Mr. Jackson kindly bid his farewells to Annabeth, and she watched as he made his way into the house. It was only then that Malcolm and Claire decided to join her.
"So that is the infamous Perseus Jackson, huh?" her cousin remarked.
"His pictures hardly do him justice I daresay," Claire added, causing her husband to roll his eyes.
The two of them then continued on down the small pathway, which led to the larger one that wound around the whole park. Annabeth followed behind but said nothing, as she was still utterly mortified at what had just happened. She couldn't stop thinking about how strange it must be to him, to see her there so suddenly. How ill he must think of her; he probably thought that she had thrown herself in his way on purpose, as if she were vying for his attention again.
Why was he here though? His own housekeeper had said he was not due back until tomorrow, and it wasn't like she had lied about it. The old lady had been just as shocked as everyone else upon seeing him.
And why was he being so kind? Why was he so different from when she normally spoke to him, so altered from the last time they had met? Considering the circumstances, Annabeth figured he wouldn't have even wanted to talk to her, much less be civil about it.
The trio walked on in some semblance of silence, as they had reached the larger pathway, and followed it on down towards the lake. The path was sandwiched on both sides by rows of small trees, as they reached the water's edge. Annabeth did not say much; merely nodding at whatever her cousins pointed out, while her thoughts were still stuck on that one moment, when she and Mr. Jackson had first beheld each other. She wondered what he must have been thinking, what must have been going through his head in that moment.
Annabeth yearned to know just how much he detested her, or, if by some unfeasible means, he did not feel such revulsion, and if she was possibly still in good graces with his affections.
As they continued along the lake, they beheld the many different views of the house that their vantage point afforded them. They admired this scene for a few minutes, until they were interrupted by Annabeth gasping slightly, as she had spotted an approaching figure coming along the path from whence, they had just came.
Mr. Jackson having changed out of his swim trunks, and now wearing a pair of dark jeans and a light blue t-shirt, was walking briskly along the path, obviously trying to catch up with them. As he got closer, Annabeth could see that his hair was still quite damp; he had obviously not taken the time to dry it properly.
"I'm sorry, Miss Chase," was the first thing he said upon drawing closer.
Annabeth was confused more than anything now, but she still felt her embarrassed blush returning.
"For what?" she asked politely.
"For barging out on you like that. I… I was just caught off guard."
The blonde girl was taken aback by his continued politeness; she was sure that once he had gotten over his shock, he would remember how he really felt, and treat her with contempt.
"You-you have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Jackson."
"Still, I would feel better knowing you have accepted my apologies."
"Only if you accept mine."
He gave her an amiable grin, one that Annabeth thought very much resembled the one she had seen in his picture from high school. That almost cheeky, 'troublemaker' smile.
Annabeth started to compliment the house, and the estate as a whole, but she stopped herself short. She didn't want him thinking she had ulterior motives for praising his estate, so she decided to just stop talking.
Mr. Jackson took a second to look behind her at her cousins, before staring back down at Annabeth, and asking, "Would you mind introducing me to your friends?"
It's like every time she thought he couldn't surprise her more, he managed to do that very thing. She couldn't stop the very faint smile from gracing her face though, as she led him over to where Malcolm and Claire were watching in awe.
"Mr. Jackson, this is my cousin, Malcolm Pace, and his wife, Claire."
Annabeth watched the raven-haired man's face as he processed who her companions were. She expected him to be put off immediately upon discovering that they were her relatives, but he showed no signs of it. Instead, he politely shook both of their hands, before turning to Malcolm specifically.
"Your cousin has told me that you're a car person, Mr. Pace."
Malcolm gave Annabeth a surprised look, but he had a glint in his eye, and he turned back to respond.
"Indeed I am, Mr. Jackson, though I have a very particular taste."
"Classics, correct? I'm just asking because my father had a vast collection of such cars, all of which I inherited. If you would like, I would love to show you around the garage."
Malcolm's face lit up, and he quickly and kindly replied, saying that he would love to at some point. Annabeth couldn't help but gleam at the way her cousin conversed with Perseus Jackson. It was relieving to her that he should know that not all of her family and relatives were so aloof. As she listened, Mr. Jackson also spoke to Claire, who also spoke in such a way that signified her good taste, manners, and intelligence.
Mr. Jackson then offered to show them around the rest of the lake and the stream, and so they all walked on together. Malcolm and Claire hung back a bit, walking and talking amongst themselves, so Annabeth and Mr. Jackson forged on ahead, side by side. She was even more self-aware of her attire now that he had changed into actual clothes. They said nothing for a little way, but Annabeth knew she had to get something off her chest.
"I just need you to know, Mr. Jackson, that we had no intention of intruding upon you like this. We had been told that you were not supposed to be back until tomorrow, otherwise I- we wouldn't even have imagined coming here."
His face was nothing if it was not understanding.
"Yeah, I had originally planned it so myself. But I had some business that came up that required my being here a day earlier than usual, and so I arrived not forty-five minutes ago."
Annabeth calculated that they must have been in the drawing room at that exact moment.
"I have some friends," Mr. Jackson continued, "That will be coming up tomorrow. Some of them you will be familiar with, namely, Jason Grace and his sisters."
She did not respond vocally to this, merely nodding her head.
The man next to her seemed to get a bit more nervous, as he spoke with a bit of a flutter in his voice.
"Would I… there's someone else coming tomorrow, someone who particularly wishes to make your acquaintance. Would I be asking too much if I said that I wished to introduce you to my sister?"
To say Annabeth was surprised would be a bit of an understatement, but she also couldn't help but smile widely as she affirmed his wish, which caused him to smile back in return. It was gratifying, and relieving somewhat, to know that he must not resent her so much as to speak terribly of her to his sister.
"Would sometime tomorrow be okay for us to swing by?"
"After lunch," she replied.
Mr. Jackson nodded, and they walked on in silence for a bit longer.
"So," Annabeth spoke out suddenly, "You never told me you were responsible for Zoe's community center."
The man stopped in his tracks, and she turned back to see him staring at her with a quizzical look on his face.
"How did… how do you know about that?"
Annabeth smirked a little bit, and she crossed her arms playfully over her chest.
"Would you believe me if I told you I helped design it?"
She actually laughed a bit at the expression that overcame his face when she told him that, and then she turned to continue walking, listening as she heard the sounds of him jogging to catch up.
"You-you work for Daedalus Architects?"
Annabeth nodded in confirmation, and Mr. Jackson shook his head, chuckling a little bit, before he suddenly got silent again.
"Wait a minute… even if you did help design it, how did you know I was involved?"
She decided not to answer his question, and to ask her own instead.
"Why did you start the foundation?"
His walking pace hitched a bit, but he continued trekking alongside her, as he took a deep breath.
"She put the picture out again, didn't she?"
Annabeth again chose not to answer, and repeated her question, more sternly this time, as she was determined to know more. Perseus Jackson slowed his walking just barely, and placed both of his hands behind his back.
"I had dyslexia growing up. It doesn't bother me now, but back then, especially during middle school, it was a challenge for me to learn, to do well in school."
He didn't look at anything in particular as he spoke, except maybe the ground.
"Thanks to my parents and their vast wealth though, I had a lot of help, and learned to overcome it before long. But I met lots of other kids who also had dyslexia, or ADHD, or even both, as well as kids with a plethora of other disabilities. And they didn't have the resources that my family had, so they couldn't always get the treatment they needed, or the help they required. There where these two kids in particular, Silena Beauregard and Charles Beckendorf, (most of us just called him Beckendorf) who I grew particularly close with, and they both had dyslexia and ADHD. We were really good friends all the way up through high school, until they both were killed in a car accident."
Mr. Jackson's voice hitched ever so slightly, when he spoke of his friends and how they passed away.
"It wrecked me, but I remembered them telling me how they always wished they could do something to help kids who had learning disabilities like us. And so, after college, I took over the company, and started the foundation."
By this time, they had turned off the larger pathway, and were heading up a smaller one back towards the house. Annabeth did not say anything for a few moments after he had finished speaking, instead just processing everything, turning it over and over within her mind.
"You were at the groundbreaking ceremony," was all she said when she finally spoke.
Perseus Jackson nodded once he realized what she was talking about.
"Yeah, Grover was there too. We had actually just come from the ceremony when we stopped by Mr. Collins' house to see you."
"I figured. You know I was actually supposed to be at that ceremony? I had to miss it because I decided to go with Rachel that week."
Mr. Jackson laughed heartily, "What a surprise that would have been for the both of us."
They were now back in front of the Callisto, and Annabeth could feel Mr. Jackson watching her as she stared up at the house admiringly.
"It really is a beautiful house," she dared to say, hoping he wouldn't take the words wrongly.
"It's funny you should say that," he replied, "Do you know what the name 'Callisto' means?"
Annabeth shook her head.
"It comes from the Greek word for beautiful," he was then giving her playful smirk, like he had just made some spectacular joke.
"Well, that's something your housekeeper never mentioned."
"Housekeeper?" Mr. Jackson's voice was disbelieving, "I don't have a housekeeper."
The blonde woman glared at him, as if to say, don't play dumb with me.
"Then who was the lady who showed us around? Oh, I forgot her name… she told us, but I don't' remember," Annabeth raised her voice in confusion, tapping her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Mrs. Blottis… no…"
"Mrs. Blofis?" he asked matter-of-factly.
"Yes! She's the one who showed us around the house."
Perseus Jackson was now chuckling to himself for some unnamed reason, and it made Annabeth a little frustrated to say the least.
"What's so funny?" she asked firmly.
"Mrs. Blofis," he replied amidst chuckles of delight, "Is not my housekeeper… she's my mother."
Annabeth's brain only had one word it could think… or say.
"What?"
"You'll have to forgive her," he said, still laughing a little bit, "She likes to 'pretend' that she's my housekeeper." He used air quotes around the word pretend. "If visitors find out she's my mother, they tend to get carried away with asking her a lot of very personal questions, so she prefers to just act like she's my housekeeper instead."
"So… her name's not really Mrs. Blofis?"
Really, Annabeth? Of all the questions, you could have asked, you chose that one?
"Yes, it is, because she remarried not too long ago. A guy named Paul; he's great really. He's a teacher, and he's actually with my sister currently in the city. They're both coming in tomorrow, like I said."
It was at this moment that Malcolm and Claire finally caught up to them, and Mr. Jackson invited them all inside for something to drink. But they politely declined, saying that they had intruded upon him long enough.
He saw them to their car, and shook Malcolm's hand in farewell, before waving goodbye to each of the ladies, and watching as their car drove off down the road, away from the Callisto. Annabeth watched him through the back window of the car, growing smaller and farther away, until he eventually turned and went back inside the house.
…..
"So, tell me again, Annabeth," Claire said as they drove away from the house, "How did you come to dislike this man so much?"
Annabeth had no excuse, and she merely said that she had never seen him behave in such a pleasant way.
"I find him perfectly amiable," Malcolm chimed in, "And forgive me for saying so, cousin, but I really don't see how he could have treated Dr. Castellan in such a way as we have been told."
"I'm afraid I'm inclined to agree, darling," Claire approved with her husband, "He looks to be good-natured, and his housekeeper spoke of him with such admirability."
"Fun fact," Annabeth finally decided to speak up, "She's not his housekeeper, she's his mother."
She explained what Mr. Jackson had told her regarding Mrs. Blofis.
"Well," Claire said with some amusement in her voice, "I can see why she would do that, and it does explain why she spoke so highly of him. Though, after meeting him in person, I hardly believe she was not telling the truth about her son."
Malcolm voiced his agreement, and they said little of the man after that.
As her cousins discussed the random things they had observed at the Callisto, Annabeth's mind wandered to the graciousness which Mr. Jackson had bestowed, and the new way in which he had presented himself; full of civility and courtesy. More than anything else, she thought of how he wished to introduce his sister, and the thought made her heart flutter ever so slightly.
Holy crap, you guys. More than 6500 words in this chapter… hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you on Saturday.