CHAPTER ONE
There was a breeze outside flowing in through the cracked window and she could feel the hairs on her arm standing straight up. A shiver ran down her back and she squirmed in her seat. She could feel her muscles start to tense up as her nervous system clicked into gear and her heart began to beat faster and faster. Deep breathes she thought, just three deep breaths. She had never been to the city before let alone anywhere in the UK really, if you don't count the two hour airport stop in Heathrow when she was six. The train lurched and then came to a screeching stop as it approached Pancras station in downtown London. With everyone rushing to get off the train she stumbled over her suitcase until finally she made it out the door with her scarf and leather bound notebook in hand. Regrouping, she looked around, she could see the green potted plants with the flowers peeking over the crest of the solid stone wall across the tracks. It was hazy outside and the smell of rain on the concrete filled the air giving her a feeling of melancholic longing. It had been a long time since she had planned this trip, 2 years to be exact, and as she stood there, she had this excited nervous feeling deep in her chest, yet she felt sad and alone as the large buildings around her engulfed her petite self.
She brushed her strawberry blonde hair out of her eye and opened her notebook and scrawled across the page in bouncy writing was the address 20 Ladbroke Road, London W11. She spun around searching for someone to ask directions when she saw an older gentleman shuffling his feet toward a nearby bench. She approached him slowly and began to sputter out the words "Hi, excuse me, uhm, can you please give me directions?". Taken aback by her American accent the man looked up slightly, his piercing blue eyes shining just beneath the wrinkles around his eyes. His mouth curved slowly into a warm gentle smile as he looked up at the young girl, "And where are you headed young miss" he said with a thick accent, head cocked to the side. She flashed her notebook at him just long enough for the man to get a glimpse at the name of the street. "What's your name" he said softly. "Grace" she said, "Gracie". "Well Gracie you're going to want to walk straight down this street and take a left, yeah just there, and then a right when you hit the park." She quickly thanked the man and took off, it wasn't until she got halfway down the next block she realized she had never asked for his name.
All around her on the street were these tall lanky figures with legs stretched across the sidewalk like the sketches in her notebook, black umbrellas covering their faces turning them into dark shadows surrounded by fog. She stared at them, imagining her pencil flying across their bodies, drawing intricate pieces of clothing around them in her head. That was all she had ever wanted to do, just draw and someday maybe, one of her pieces would be featured in some top magazine like GQ or Vogue. Maybe one day she could have her own studio, it would have plants everywhere and a terrace or a rooftop deck, somewhere where she could see the city. And there would be succulents and growth all over and mirrors along the walls of the~BEEP~she jumped backwards on top the sidewalk and spun around bewildered, as she had been daydreaming and observing she completely blanked out her walk. Gracie made her way down the block a little further searching for a street name until after about 5 minutes, a small little sign, with rust along the edges, peeked out of the hedges of the adjacent house that covered it. Tall terraced homes loomed above her, about 3 to 4 stories high with beautiful slabs of brick wrapping around the building. She walked up the few stairs and took a brass key out of her back pocket and slid it into the keyhole. Fidgeting and fighting to turn it, she pressed her shoulder into the door and it sprung open. Instantly her nose filled with the smell of dust and a subtle hint of vanilla. Gracie's eyes darted back and forth attempting to soak in everything around her. There were a few books sprawled across the porcelain white coffee table, plants that had not been watered in far far too long, small droplet stains on the rug below, and a coffee mug set right along the window seat next to a grey cozy wool knit throw. For the first time, she could actually see it. She pictured her mom, a thin beautiful strawberry blonde woman twirling through the room and into the kitchen in her pjs and slippers as she brewed her morning coffee. The woman with the steaming cup in hand trotting along to her favorite spot in the house, the coffee splashing and spilling along the way as she curled up and opened her favorite book and read just alongside the window. She watched as the morning walkers passed by, sipping at her mug. Perfectly at ease. This of course was, before it happened.
Gracie left her notebook in the kitchen, which was attached to the living room, and headed upstairs with her suitcase. On the second floor lie the master bedroom and a full size bathroom with two sinks and marble finishings. It was drafty and she wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck as she scanned the room for the open window. She hurried over to it and jammed it shut and it clicked with a thud. She noticed on the window sill a small silver ring with daisy's wrapped around the band, each with their own small glistening diamond in the center. Engraved on the inside of the ring were the letters A.M. and E.C. Gracie twiddled with the ring in her hands remembering how small her mother's hands were. She then slipped the ring on her third finger on her right hand and spun it around. She could feel it again, that nostalgic sensation deep in her stomach, but she shoved it aside and continued on her tour through the home. Her mother truly had an eye for design. Each room complimented the next with their beautiful rugs and clean upholstery and Gracie nodded her head in approval.
The entire place was so chic and rustic but still warm and comforting, Gracie could see how easily two young adults could make their home here. Her dad was a young entrepreneur, always starting new businesses and building them to their peak, that was, until he grew bored and then he would move on to his next big idea. Her mom on the other hand was a fashion designer and it wasn't until she had Gracie that she really began to make a name for herself and now she's known all over the world. Miss Annabelle McKay. Her father's name was Emmett Carlisle but he insisted Annabell keep her last name because it sounded a little more devil-may-care that way, as most fashion designers should. Emmett was average height and had a solid build and bright green eyes that shined beneath his short silky blond hair. Below his nicely dressed and confident exterior he was a goofball. He was walking out from a meeting one day when he spotted Annabelle on the opposite side of the street and he strutted over right through the traffic, making all the cars stop and wait for him just so he could approach her. Naturally of course she was not interested, like all good love stories go, but still, she couldn't help taking notice of his mischievous playful smile. After 6 months of courting her, or in Annabelle's words stalking her, she buckled and the rest is history. Annabelle was tough and independent or at least she made herself appear that way, but she longed for a family and therefore insisted they have kids straight away. They were in love, that kind of love that you believe as a kid happens for everyone, before the world turns you pessimistic and cold. Gracie begged that she would find that someday, someone to share her passions with, and grow old with. It sounded cheesy but in many ways she was a lot like her mother. She had a strong cold exterior but beneath she wanted more, she wanted attention and someone to mark as their own, she craved it like a lion who hadn't had the taste of a gazelle in weeks. Gracie was the spitting image of her mother, slender and thin with her hair falling slightly and resting just at the center of her back. She had her father's deep green eyes and got his drive and passion for success.
Emmett and Annabelle had passed away not just two years prior. A young man, distraught by the fact that his girlfriend had left him for another man, walked inside the old New York apartment building and started a fire on the third floor outside his girlfriend's apartment. Her parents happened to be visiting a friend on the 5th floor just two stories up. They couldn't make it out in time and were found dead at the scene 6 hours later. Gracie was away at school when she was met outside her dorm room by police officers. She hated to think about it. The fear they must have felt, trapped with no way out, extreme heat peeking through the door of the apartment. She lay awake for weeks staring up at her childhood bedroom ceiling. She hoped they suffocated and passed out. She hoped they didn't feel any pain, but as much as she tried to shred a tiny spot of light on the horror of what happened, she knew in her gut it was unlikely. With no aunts or uncles, the responsibility fell to her to handle her parents affairs. In the two years that had passed, Gracie had packed up or sold her family's belongings and sold their house. She finished up most of her classes the best she could and flew to Britain with nothing but her suitcase and her leatherbound notebook.
As she walked back downstairs she paused at the bottom step and just stood in silence. She wanted to take it all in, to appreciate it for what it was. It was a home, it was somebody's story, it was where her story began. Of course she didn't remember that for Emmett had begun a start up in America and they moved out when Gracie was not even 2 years old. Gracie made her way into the kitchen and fired up the coffee pot. It crackled and sputtered as she put in the ground and she watched it intently until it finally began to slowly drizzle out into the pot. Her stomach rumbled and she turned around and popped open the fridge fully expecting to see nothing but still for some reason she was slightly disappointed. She needed to get groceries. Well actually she needed to do a lot of stuff but groceries seemed like a good place to start.
She pulled her wool coat tighter against her chest as she felt the goosebumps begin to rise on her chest. It was brisk outside and one gust of wind felt like tiny shards of ice penetrating your skin. As she hauled her bags back down the street towards the apartment, she could feel the weight of the items inside the grocery bags stretching down the plastic handles. Slamming the door shut behind her, she peeled off her coat and loaded up the fridge. She heated up some porridge in a bowl and sliced a banana to throw on top and took it upstairs into the spare office. There were only two tiny square windows that were nested up by the ceiling, and a stream of light from each, flooded the room. Gracie set down her porridge and laid her notebook on the desk and took out her gold pen with her initials carved on the side. G.E.M.C. Grace Eliana McKay Carlisle. It sounded a little pretentious, she knew that, but she also knew her mom absolutely loved that fact. Gracie closed her eyes, tapped her pen to the paper, opened her eyes, and began to draw. She sketched long sister coats that swung back in the wind, women with heels that stretched out their long legs, and sleeveless blouses with high necks and ties.