"Grandma, I'm sorry—I can't stay for dinner. I need to get back to California as soon as possible. Something urgent came up. I'm really sorry... Yes, I understand. I love you."
After hanging up the phone, Catherine sighed and glanced at the bustling streets of New York outside the window. Then she said to Brian, "Let's head to Smont Street to pick up Mr. Hershlag. Grandma wants him to give Grandpa a full check-up."
"Alright, we're on our way," Brian replied, turning the wheel and heading toward Smont Street.
When they arrived, Mr. Hershlag was already waiting with the necessary equipment.
"I'm sorry for needing you to pick me up. My car is still in the shop, and their service is really slow," Mr. Hershlag said as he loaded the equipment into the trunk.
"No worries, it's on our way," Brian smiled as he helped.
"Yes, I'm also curious about Grandpa's recent health," Catherine added.
"There's nothing serious, Catherine. Old Mr. Kleist is in good shape for his age. Of course, with age comes a few minor issues, but Mrs. Sarah just wanted to be cautious. Don't worry," Hershlag shrugged, getting into the passenger seat. As he fastened his seatbelt, he remembered something. "Mr. Brian, could I trouble you one more time? My daughter is at her mother's studio, just two streets away. I need to pick her up and take her home. The New Year holiday is almost over, and she needs to get ready."
"Of course, no problem," Brian nodded and started the car. Catherine leaned in with interest. "Mr. Hershlag, I don't think I've ever met your daughter."
"Really?" Hershlag thought for a moment. "Maybe not. At least, when I visited old Mr. Kleist with her, you weren't there. But I did bring her on Christmas Eve."
"Oh, that day I was in a hurry to take Grandpa home, so I didn't notice. I think I just saw her from a distance," Catherine sighed. "What's her name? How old is she?"
"She's only a year younger than you. Her name is..." Hershlag started to pull out his wallet, intending to show Catherine a picture of his daughter, but then he stopped and smiled. "Well, you'll meet her soon enough. You can introduce yourselves then."
Catherine rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat. Fine, she thought, I'll wait until I meet her. She was curious if Mr. Hershlag's daughter, being a student on Long Island, might know any girls named Natalie. Although, she wasn't too optimistic about the chances.
The two streets passed quickly, and soon Mrs. Hershlag came out with her daughter after receiving her husband's call. The girl was very cute, with thick, curly brown hair, delicate features, and an oval face with a hint of angularity, giving her a look of both innocence and strong-willed determination.
"Hi, Neta, my darling," Mr. Hershlag hugged his daughter first, then kissed his wife on the cheek.
"Alright, dear, give my regards to old Mr. Kleist," Mrs. Hershlag smiled.
"I will. Just remember to come home early. I'm hopeless at making pies," Mr. Hershlag joked, then led his daughter into the car. He took the passenger seat again, while the girl sat in the back with Catherine.
"Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Natalie Hersh..." The girl shut the car door, put down her backpack, and started to introduce herself to Catherine, but as soon as she turned her head, something caught her off guard, and the words stuck in her throat.
She saw Catherine staring at her, unblinking. The emerald-green eyes seemed to suddenly ignite, and within those burning flames, Natalie felt as though she were completely exposed, her clothes incinerated by the intensity of that gaze. Instinctively, she clutched her backpack to her chest, trying to shield herself from those strange eyes. She felt a mix of shame and anger, yet there was no disgust or hatred—just a heart pounding wildly.
"Are you girls alright?" Mr. Hershlag's voice broke the silence. He noticed through the rearview mirror that something was off with the two girls, so he turned around to check on them.
Catherine seemed to snap out of a dream, quickly averting her gaze and stammering, "I... I'm sorry, I was just... just daydreaming."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Mr. Hershlag asked, his doctor's instincts telling him that something was a bit off with Catherine. But Brian came to the rescue, saying, "Don't worry about her, Mr. Hershlag. She's always like this—her mind tends to wander sometimes. But usually, once she's done daydreaming, she comes up with all sorts of wild ideas that catch everyone off guard."
"True, kids can be like that," Mr. Hershlag agreed, shrugging and turning back around, feeling a bit silly for being so suspicious.
Catherine, who had turned her head away, let out a sigh of relief. She stole a glance at the girl sitting next to her and quickly looked away when their eyes met.
"You... Hi, Natalie. I'm... I'm..."
"Ca... Catherine Mason. I... I know," Natalie stammered too. Although that strange feeling had disappeared when Catherine snapped out of it, she still held her backpack close, her heart racing.
"You... you know?" Catherine looked up in surprise but quickly averted her gaze again.
"Yes, I... I've seen 'The Parent Trap.' It's... a really interesting movie," Natalie replied, lowering her head as well.
After that, a long silence followed. The two girls took turns glancing at each other, but each would look away before the other could notice. This awkwardness continued until they arrived at Natalie's house. When Natalie got out of the car, Catherine suddenly mustered the courage to call out, "Natalie!"
Natalie turned around, looking at Catherine in confusion.
"If… If it's possible… I mean…" Catherine started, but after a long pause, she finally smiled bitterly and said, "I just wanted to say, it's nice to meet you."
"Um… Nice to meet you too," Natalie replied with a smile.
Catherine waved at her, then slumped back into her seat, leaving the two adults to look at each other, completely bewildered.
After driving a few more streets, the car stopped in front of her grandfather's villa. Before it even came to a complete stop, Catherine jumped out and ran toward the house. Brian quickly called out, "Hey, Cathy! We need to get to the airport. Your mom wants you to head back immediately."
But Catherine didn't seem to hear him. She ran to the front door and started knocking frantically. The butler, Thomas, soon opened the door, but before he could say anything, the little girl rushed inside, startling her grandparents and Uncle Dean in the living room.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" her grandmother asked first.
"Grandma, I'd like to go to my room. Please don't disturb me until dinner. I'm begging you," Catherine said with distress, then she turned and ran upstairs, leaving the three of them baffled.
But Catherine didn't care about any of that. After rushing into her room and slamming the door shut, she threw her backpack aside, walked to her bed, and collapsed onto it. The mattress was soft and bouncy, but her nose still felt a bit sore from the impact.
Yet, Catherine didn't care about that either. She stared straight ahead, her mind completely consumed by the moment she met Natalie. Why, she wondered, why at that moment did she feel an uncontrollable urge to pin her down, to…
Oh, dear God, what's wrong with me? Catherine pressed a pillow over her head. Have I gone mad, or am I some kind of pervert? How could I think of such things?! That feeling, that feeling was just like the one I had before, which means that I must have felt the same way about Jessica, and Kate, and Lindsay, and Avril... No! Absolutely not! I'm not like that! I'm definitely not some kind of pervert!
Catherine suddenly sprang up and ran into the bathroom. She braced herself against the sink, glaring at her reflection in the mirror, and through gritted teeth, she said, "Listen to me. You're not a pervert, and you're not crazy. You're Catherine Mason, understand? Catherine Mason! That's who you are, no one else!"
She stared at her reflection, breathing heavily. The girl in the mirror looked strange, almost as if she were hypnotized. After a while, she finally straightened up, seemingly back to normal. She adjusted her clothes and left the room.
Downstairs, her grandparents were frowning, questioning Brian, who had his hands up in innocence, clueless about what was going on. It wasn't until Dean called out, "The little rascal's coming down," that they stopped.
"I'm fine! Nothing's wrong!" Catherine quickly raised her hand and called out, seeing everyone start to crowd around her. She had a mischievous smile on her face, looking as if nothing had happened.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Catherine, you really know how to mess with people. You have no idea—Mr. Kleist was this close to holding a knife to my throat, demanding to know what happened," Brian exclaimed dramatically.
"Alright, alright, I'll explain later. But before that, let me make two phone calls, okay?" Catherine said, holding up a finger.
"Aren't we going to the airport?" her godfather asked curiously.
"For now, I don't think it's necessary," Catherine said after thinking for a moment. She decided to reveal a little bit. "One of the calls is to get Luc Besson's phone number from home, and the other is to call Mr. Besson. I want to invite him to New York for a talk."
"Invite him to New York for a talk?" Brian was puzzled, but Catherine just smiled and didn't answer. Instead, she turned to her grandmother. "Is there Kung Pao Chicken for dinner tonight, Grandma?"