Maylily - Chapter 110

When Maylily finished cleaning, fed Dylan, and came out to the living room, Michele was sitting on the sofa. He’d been helping Carlo with weeding and was taking a break after a bath, drinking lemon water.

“You finished earlier than I expected. Last time, I think you were done pretty late in the afternoon.”

“Ah, today Stefano helped out. To be precise, it was closer to grabbing him off the road and forcing him into labor.”

At his playful reply, Maylily let out a small laugh and sat down beside him. Dylan, settled on her lap, stared up at Michele’s hair, from which droplets of water fell, drip, drip. Michele snorted softly and tapped Dylan’s chubby cheek with his index finger.

“Looking at how wide awake he is, I guess he took a really good nap.”

“Yes, thanks to Auntie taking such good care of him. Where did she go?”

“She went to buy bread for dinner. With Uncle.”

The bread served to the inn’s guests at meals was usually baked in-house, but today, because Giovanna had injured her hand and they were short on help, they decided to buy it from the village bakery.

Ah, I see. Murmuring softly, Maylily glanced around the house for no particular reason, then cautiously opened her mouth.

“So, um, Michele….”

As if encouraging her when she hesitated even after starting, Michele broke into a grin. Sunlight streaming through the window made his light brown eyes glow with an even warmer light.

“What is it? No matter what you say, it won’t surprise me more than when you asked me to help you run away, so go ahead.”

At Michele’s joke, Maylily smiled weakly, her tension easing, and got to the point.

“The Count of Everscourt figured out the lie we told yesterday. I guess my acting was too clumsy.”

She spoke as lightly as she could, trying to sound unconcerned, but the smile vanished from Michele’s face in an instant.

“It’s probably because of my mistake this morning. I should’ve been more careful since the Count is staying at the inn…. I’m sorry.”

“No. If anything, I’m sorry for putting you in an uncomfortable position. Since the truth is out, I wanted to tell you not to worry about it.”

“Does he know who Dylan’s father is too?”

“No, not yet….”

“Are you not going to tell him?”

“I can’t hide the truth forever, but I don’t want to say it myself. If the Count finds out the truth….”

I’m afraid he might take the child away.

Fearing that her unspoken fear might become reality, Maylily couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. Guessing the words she left unsaid, Michele fell silent. He gulped down the remaining lemon water, then spoke again.

“Did he tell you to go back to Riverton?”

“…Yes.”

“What do you want to do?”

“No matter what the Count says, I won’t change my life or my plans going forward. I don’t want to go back to how things were before.”

“Do you think he’ll back down easily?”

“That… I’m not sure.”

Slowly shaking her head, Maylily replayed her conversation with the Count, her face clouded with confusion.

To her earnest plea that he please go back, the Count replied with an expression that looked strangely wounded.

“Think about it again.”

“Even so, my decision won’t change.”

“Then think about it again until it does. I’ll wait.”

With that, he withdrew. He was still a willful and arrogant man, but the way he treated Maylily was slightly different from before. Instead of threatening her, he wanted to persuade her. That much, she could feel clearly.

So if persuasion failed, would he eventually accept the end and step back?

Maylily wanted to place her hopes in the change the Count had shown. She didn’t want to keep hating a man who resembled the child she loved anymore.

***

The Count of Everscourt’s waiting unfolded in a way completely different from what Maylily expected.

From the day after he declared he would wait, he began to hover around her, constantly drawing her attention.

Every morning, he sat on the bench and watched her clean the front yard. When she gathered laundry in the backyard, he stood by the guest room window and looked on. When Maylily sat across from Giovanna in the dining hall preparing ingredients, he lingered in the front yard visible through the restaurant window, or sat on a chair in the hall as if eavesdropping on their conversation. Last weekend, when she gave her first performance at the restaurant, he followed her from about ten steps behind, accompanying her on her commute.

Because of the man who kept appearing out of nowhere at unexpected moments, her startled heart jolted again and again. At times, heat crept into her cheeks, and her concentration wavered.

Still, it felt somewhat ambiguous to confront the Count about it. He always kept a certain physical distance from Maylily and never spoke to her directly.

So if all of it was coincidence, then coincidence it could be. The inn and the village weren’t very large to begin with, which made it even more plausible.

Am I imagining things? But coincidences don’t repeat like this.

Maylily, though inwardly puzzled, went about her daily routine as usual. She tried all the harder because she didn’t want him to notice that she was conscious of him.

As the Count began appearing throughout the inn at all hours, Carlo and Giovanna, bewilderingly, started to grow fond of him.

[You know, that Mr. Barry from Riverton. I thought the young man was a high-ranking noble, but turns out he’s a commoner businessman.]

[These days, wealthy commoners seem more aristocratic than actual nobles.]

Whatever the Count told them about himself, the couple regarded him as a wealthy commoner businessman vacationing in Bredova. Thanks to that, they were able to treat him with far more ease, so Maylily didn’t bother revealing the truth. Michele also seemed to hold his tongue so she wouldn’t be put in an awkward position.

Whenever guests went in and out, they left their keys at the counter, and each time, the Count tipped generously, which became a great help to the inn’s income.

It wasn’t easy to ask such a man to leave. Whatever his purpose in coming here, he paid properly, and since Carlo chose to accept him as a guest, the Count had the right to stay.

So Maylily decided to endure the temporary discomfort and wait for the Count to give up. Just as harder times had passed, this too would pass.

In that time where a complete ending was put on hold, more than ten days had already passed since the count came to Bredova.

***

The Sergio family had a small but meaningful tradition. Each year, they made juice from the first oranges harvested in the inn’s backyard and shared it together as a family.

It was a tradition meant for family members who had worked hard running the inn throughout the year to praise and encourage one another. It dated back to the time of Carlo’s grandfather, the founder of the family business.

Normally, the event took place in December, when the oranges ripened into a golden hue, but this year it was moved up a little. Carlo decided on it because he wanted Dylan to taste oranges sooner. As it happened, there were a few fruits on the tree ripe enough to be made into juice.

After lunch, once the restaurant had been tidied up, preparations for the event were in full swing. Michele, who had strong hands, squeezed the orange juice, and Maylily poured it neatly into cups. Because the fruit had been harvested early, the juice was quite tart, so they added a little sugar.

Giovanna baked biscotti to go with the juice. Right on time, she took the brown cookies out of the oven, and a nutty aroma rose into the air. Dylan lay in the basket cradle set to one side of the dining hall, chewing and sucking on the drooping ears of his puppy doll while rolling his curiosity-filled eyes around.

A short while later, the table was set with glasses filled with orange juice and plates neatly arranged with biscotti.

A centerpiece made of bright yellow marigolds was placed at the center, lighting up the table. It was an arrangement Maylily put together herself, using the rudimentary skills she’d picked up by watching others in Prowden, because she wanted the gathering to feel like a proper party.

[Thanks to you showing off your talents, this place feels like a refined party venue.]

[That’s right. I had no idea you had such a marvelous knack, my dear.]

[I just copied things clumsily. If you look too closely, it’s a mess, so you’ll have to keep a bit of distance.]

Laughing, they gathered around the table and chatted warmly while waiting for Carlo, who had gone out to chop firewood.

[Carlo is taking quite a while.]

After glancing toward the door outside, where there was still no sign of him, Giovanna murmured.

[You’re right. He said there wasn’t much to do…. I’ll go check on him.]

Michele rose from his seat and was just about to take a step when voices began to sound from the doorway, growing steadily louder. Then Carlo appeared.

[Giovanna, this year I invited a special guest. Please come in, Mr. Barry.]