C8 - lessons and business

Time flowed seamlessly through tranquil and picturesque seasons, occasionally punctuated by Michael Eclair seeking my insights on stocks or offering his advice.Yet, it was often I who sought his guidance for my concerns.

"How's the stylist faring in her teachings?" He inquired during a web call. Though the question was directed at me, his focus remained immersed in the pages of his book, as if my response was secondary.

"Lilith Ellis is adept," I responded briefly, ensuring my satisfaction was conveyed despite the brevity. Ellis, an emerging stylist and fashion visionary, embodied a philosophy of 'simplicity, comfort, and elegance. Her designs mirrored her creed – unostentatious, avoiding garishness, and employing sumptuously cozy fabrics that beckoned to be touched and embraced.Twice a week, Lilith graced our home, imparting knowledge of fashion and style to both the girls and me. From the intricacies of hairstyles to the nuances of makeup and even down to the choice of shoes, she orchestrated our sartorial enlightenment. The girls were captivated by the process.

"Glad to know my investment in her services didn't go to waste," he dryly remarked, his mirth undisguised.

'At times, he feels like a long-lost grandfather, cut from the same cloth as my father.'

I smiled in response. Initially, I intended to bear Lilith's fees, but he brushed aside my attempts with a hint of disdain, stating, "No, you're not footing the bill for me."

Understanding the psyche of the affluent is often puzzling. Nobody relishes the weight of debts, myself included, yet if a gift arrives free of strings, I'm not one to decline. This seasoned mogul abhorred the notion of indebtedness, regardless of whether it bore a price tag or not. His pride stood tall, a parallel to his life. Although I didn't directly pay for Lilith's services, I invested in her. More than half my closet now shelters her creations.

Closing the book before him, his gaze met mine. "Ezra has emailed you the list of your classes and instructors."

"Yes, but isn't it quite an extensive list?" I anticipated a sound rationale for the roster. Ten classes in total, encompassing cooking, piano, culinary skills, language, marksmanship, and more. Is this a standard for well-heeled progeny?

"You should have mastered them earlier. Some you're already acquainted with, but they require refinement and honing. By the time you graduate high school, you should be a master."

"I need a solid 9 hours of sleep for growth and cognitive function." He's diminishing my autonomy and impeding my development. 

"Just a nondescript, obscure institution. I can make arrangements," he quipped. While I wasn't particularly attached to my current school, I felt a sting of offense.

Yet, upon reflection, it beats squandering time in high school. "When?"

"Commencing next week."

Michael Eclair pivoted toward me. "What's the matter you want to discuss?" I crossed my legs and straightened my posture in the chair. "I'm looking for a firm to manage my investments."

Michael Eclair raised an eyebrow but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "About time!"

A chuckle escaped him. "What's in it for the company?"

"Profit," I replied succinctly.

"10% of each investment plus three years of complimentary consultation," he stated as he settled into his leather seat, signaling Ezra with a nod. "Deal."

He paused mid-action, taken aback by my swift agreement. Surprise was written all over his face. His gaze bore into me, perhaps waiting for a however or some sort of twist.

"Uncle Michael..." Calling him that felt peculiar, and there was a hesitation in using the term. But every time I addressed him formally, a dimness clouded his eyes and his countenance tightened. Yet, when I began calling him "Uncle," his eyes brightened, the crease between his brows smoothed as though it had never existed.

I continued, "I've achieved my primary goal, it's time I indulge in my passions."

He leveled a patronizing look at me. "Lacking ambition isn't healthy."

"Neither is unchecked greed," I retorted.

"Idle hands breed mischief," he countered, a grin playing on his lips. This old man was relishing the exchange.

"Given your schedule, I doubt you know the meaning of idle."

"Ahahaha!" His laughter reverberated within his office, while my room echoed with a quiet chuckle.

The following day, I wasn't certain what strings Uncle Michael pulled, but I found myself seated in the Dean's office as soon as I entered the school grounds. Skipping classes was permissible, with attendance needed only occasionally and during major exams.

'He certainly acts swiftly!'

As seasons flowed, my daily existence underwent positive transformation. I pursued my desired knowledge and engaged in activities that brought me joy. No matter how weary I was by day's end, I held no regrets for the choices I'd made. My daily regimen revolved around the classes orchestrated by Uncle Michael. Rising at five in the morning, I dedicated an hour and a half to yoga and stretching. Following that, martial arts practice, coupled with shooting and horseback riding, occupied my time. Returning home, I dove into swimming lessons in our pool.

Breakfast usually fell around eight or nine, occasionally postponed by oversleeping, before I headed to school. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, post-school hours featured etiquette and language lessons. Saturdays were reserved for music in the morning and culinary training in the afternoon.

To my immense delight, whatever I engaged in, the girls enthusiastically joined me. And so, time marched on, as the seasons waltzed in and out.