Chapter Two:
C h r i s t o p h e r J e n k i n s
By: Tinkerbell, still. :P
Author's Note: Okay, Christopher Jenkins WAS an actual character, in a way. He was mentioned in one of the four rare Atlantis books--"The Journal of Milo Thatch." :) Just to letcha know. Oh, and he's copyrighted by Disney. ^_~ *squirts Christopher with a Super Soaker* Okay, enjoy Chapter 2. :)
While in her black car, a classic Dorfenheimer Wildcat, we got better acquainted.
"Such a beautiful car," I commented. "How did you ever afford such a beauty?"
"It was given to me by Mr. Whitmore," she answered.
I smiled, sniffing the car's unique fragrance. "It is quite lovely." Then I looked up above, to observe the glittering stars painted across the dark sky. "Such fascinating sky diamonds we have tonight."
I had always enjoyed looking at the stars sparkling against the midnight sky. Helga interrupted my reverie when we reached her mansion. The mansion was incredible. In front of it stood a fountain that seemed to light up the whole area with a radiant cerulean glow.
Inside was even more astonishing. A large glistening chandelier hung from the ceiling of the main room, the walls were covered with elaborate designs, and well, I was quite overwhelmed by all of this.
In the kitchen, Ms. Sinclair offered me a seat and fixed two cups of tea.
Still glancing around, I asked, "How do you manage this gigantic domain of yours by yourself?"
"That is why I've invited you over to discuss about. This was my father's residence here in America before he passed away. In his will, he left me this house and I'm afraid I'm much too busy working most of the day to do any housekeeping."
"So...you need a housekeeper."
"Exactly. Are you interested?"
"Wait...you asked me whether I was able to cook back at the restaurant-"
"I will also require a cook."
I vacillated for a minute and then answered," Well, since there are few jobs out there available...I will...accept."
"Very well. I will guide you to your room."
"Whoa! Whoa, time out. My room? I'm staying here?" I asked, a bit staggered. No, wait; I take that back. I was beyond staggered.
"Yes? You have a problem with that?"
I was flattered and actually felt loved, in a way. "No. No problem..." I answered softly.
The phone rang.
"Excuse me. I have to take this call. Feel free to direct yourself around," she sighed, sounded exhausted. As she was talking on the phone with Mr. Whitmore about the restaurant, I guided myself upstairs and down the halls, where I found several photos and portraits of her family and herself. This woman wasn't as cold and heartless as I thought. I knew that underneath her icy exterior, she was probably a whole different person. I began to actually build up a high appreciation towards this person.
My thoughts finally paused when I feasted my eyes on a large portrait of Helga had another man. The picture was on the center of her bedroom wall, along with depictions of her six younger brothers. She was absolutely correct about needing a housekeeper. Silk blankets and pillows were spread out on the bed in a disorganized fashion. Clothes and even small handguns (Well, she does serve as a bodyguard for Mr. Whitmore) flung across the floor. It was quite interesting to find such an exquisite and dominant lady to have such a cluttered bedroom.
Again, I stared at the portrait, wondering who the man could be...her father? Brother?
"Former husband," she said, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere. "Christopher Jenkins."
"F-Former husband? You were married? What happened to him?"
"He...died...in a war." Helga closed her eyes for a brief moment as if she were holding back a tear and opened them up slowly.
"How long were you two married?"
"One year."
"One year?" Odd.
"One year."
Why? Why were all of these emotions rumbling inside of me, ready to erupt? I was quite surprised at the fact that she had been married, yet upset because she had to face such a disappointing incident. On the other hand, I was somewhat satisfied by the fact the marriage lasted only a year and...was I actually feeling envious? I felt so selfish...
"Are you going to let me assist you to your room now?" she questioned, trying to change the subject.
I nodded.
C h r i s t o p h e r J e n k i n s
By: Tinkerbell, still. :P
Author's Note: Okay, Christopher Jenkins WAS an actual character, in a way. He was mentioned in one of the four rare Atlantis books--"The Journal of Milo Thatch." :) Just to letcha know. Oh, and he's copyrighted by Disney. ^_~ *squirts Christopher with a Super Soaker* Okay, enjoy Chapter 2. :)
While in her black car, a classic Dorfenheimer Wildcat, we got better acquainted.
"Such a beautiful car," I commented. "How did you ever afford such a beauty?"
"It was given to me by Mr. Whitmore," she answered.
I smiled, sniffing the car's unique fragrance. "It is quite lovely." Then I looked up above, to observe the glittering stars painted across the dark sky. "Such fascinating sky diamonds we have tonight."
I had always enjoyed looking at the stars sparkling against the midnight sky. Helga interrupted my reverie when we reached her mansion. The mansion was incredible. In front of it stood a fountain that seemed to light up the whole area with a radiant cerulean glow.
Inside was even more astonishing. A large glistening chandelier hung from the ceiling of the main room, the walls were covered with elaborate designs, and well, I was quite overwhelmed by all of this.
In the kitchen, Ms. Sinclair offered me a seat and fixed two cups of tea.
Still glancing around, I asked, "How do you manage this gigantic domain of yours by yourself?"
"That is why I've invited you over to discuss about. This was my father's residence here in America before he passed away. In his will, he left me this house and I'm afraid I'm much too busy working most of the day to do any housekeeping."
"So...you need a housekeeper."
"Exactly. Are you interested?"
"Wait...you asked me whether I was able to cook back at the restaurant-"
"I will also require a cook."
I vacillated for a minute and then answered," Well, since there are few jobs out there available...I will...accept."
"Very well. I will guide you to your room."
"Whoa! Whoa, time out. My room? I'm staying here?" I asked, a bit staggered. No, wait; I take that back. I was beyond staggered.
"Yes? You have a problem with that?"
I was flattered and actually felt loved, in a way. "No. No problem..." I answered softly.
The phone rang.
"Excuse me. I have to take this call. Feel free to direct yourself around," she sighed, sounded exhausted. As she was talking on the phone with Mr. Whitmore about the restaurant, I guided myself upstairs and down the halls, where I found several photos and portraits of her family and herself. This woman wasn't as cold and heartless as I thought. I knew that underneath her icy exterior, she was probably a whole different person. I began to actually build up a high appreciation towards this person.
My thoughts finally paused when I feasted my eyes on a large portrait of Helga had another man. The picture was on the center of her bedroom wall, along with depictions of her six younger brothers. She was absolutely correct about needing a housekeeper. Silk blankets and pillows were spread out on the bed in a disorganized fashion. Clothes and even small handguns (Well, she does serve as a bodyguard for Mr. Whitmore) flung across the floor. It was quite interesting to find such an exquisite and dominant lady to have such a cluttered bedroom.
Again, I stared at the portrait, wondering who the man could be...her father? Brother?
"Former husband," she said, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere. "Christopher Jenkins."
"F-Former husband? You were married? What happened to him?"
"He...died...in a war." Helga closed her eyes for a brief moment as if she were holding back a tear and opened them up slowly.
"How long were you two married?"
"One year."
"One year?" Odd.
"One year."
Why? Why were all of these emotions rumbling inside of me, ready to erupt? I was quite surprised at the fact that she had been married, yet upset because she had to face such a disappointing incident. On the other hand, I was somewhat satisfied by the fact the marriage lasted only a year and...was I actually feeling envious? I felt so selfish...
"Are you going to let me assist you to your room now?" she questioned, trying to change the subject.
I nodded.