Traversing through the empty halls mindlessly caused Sharmaine utmost confusion. It was great that the house displayed great concepts of minimalism, however, because of the said style, Sharmaine found herself in the middle of the one hall, completely lost towards more halls that looked the same.
She grunted silently, trying to think of a way to find the big dining room, but it was all like a giant maze. The identical halls made her feel lost—walking around circles in her own home must've sucked. She continued to walk until she found herself the staircases that lead down to the big entrance door.
In the middle, she noticed the big canvas family portrait that took up all the empty space of the wall. Now that she thought of it, she had not paid attention to the family portrait that much considering how big it was. There was nothing wrong with the painting; Sharmaine just felt that it looked too massive for her taste, though she just shrugged it off.
She sighed and continued to make her way until she finally arrived at the dining room, where the old woman stood beside an empty chair. An array of food on the table emitted sweet and savory aromas that travelled up to her nostrils, making her stomach growl louder.
"Miss, the food's still hot," the old lady said as she served hot rice and chicken; the same lunch she had a couple of days ago. And as she bit into the perfectly cooked flesh of the meat, she felt immense satisfaction—֫simply, it was scrumptious.
The old woman giggled. "You are certainly like the young mistresses. They all enjoyed chicken made by me." What she said was an understatement given as to how lovely her cooking skills were. A simple piece of chicken could by deliciously gulped down—the animal's death was worth it.
"The two mistresses… you said they were pretty much a complete replica of me. How you say so?"
There was a momentary silence between the two women, but when the old woman started to speak, she smiled. "Yes, miss, you were very much like them, however, these times have changed. The mistresses used to carry their lovely and colorful journals. Now that I thought about it, they were very care-free back in the days."
Journals.
Sharmaine faintly glanced back at the old woman. Her smile was sweet and filled with warmth; she thought that the woman in front of her must've worked her whole life in this lonely household.
"You must have been working here for a long time now."
"Oh, yes, I was hired right after the birth of the young mistresses. Even I can remember the days when they'll laze around, painting the walls of the house in different colors. To see them get married off to wonderful men was an achievement as I kind of served as their second mother. The Master and Mistress was very busy with their business at the time."
Sharmaine sat silent again—her plate nearly empty. "Paint? This house?"
The old woman nodded.
"But there were no paintings nor murals around the halls."
"That was because this house was renovated not long before you came. The President loves her minimalist feel. It's just a shame that her sister left the household. Oh my, what am I doing here just chatting? Pardon my actions, miss, but I have work to do. Goodness."
As the old woman left, she finished her whole platter of food. What the old woman said interested her even further. Her mother had a sister, who disappeared just before she came in but she did not mention Merry at all.
"Could it be…"