Lola's recent goal was to become a graceful lady.
If her mother were still living with her and heard about this goal, she would probably laugh uncontrollably, flick the ash from her cigarette, and pull out some cash from her wallet to shove into Lola's pocket: "Out of money again, huh? Get out and have some fun. Don't be so weird all the time."
It's a pity that her mother had left home, so there was no one to remind her how difficult it was for a rude and violent bad girl to transform into a graceful lady.
That afternoon, Lola skipped her meal break and rushed to the nearby bookstore, where she bought several hardcover books on etiquette in one go. The books were made of glossy paper, heavy and thick, and together weighed over 20 pounds.
Carrying those books left Lola gasping for breath. As she approached the restaurant's main entrance, a wave of fiery embarrassment suddenly washed over her, like she was about to expose a private part of her body in public.
She wanted to read, but was afraid of others knowing that she was reading. She wanted to become a lady, but she was afraid of others knowing she wanted to become one. She hesitated, thought about it, and finally decided to hide the books under her apron.
She knew she looked ridiculous, but the fear of people knowing she had bought a bunch of books was stronger than the fear of being laughed at for how silly she looked.
Why?
She didn't know.
Maybe the idea of a bad girl wanting to read was laughable in itself.
She hadn't expected that the first person she would see wasn't one of her flamboyant coworkers, but Mr. L.
He was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing a black wool coat, with a white shirt, dark gray vest, and a striped tie underneath. Unlike in her dreams, his features in reality were more defined, and his contours sharper. Of course, the marks of time were more visible on his face as well. Maybe it was the bright afternoon sunlight, but his hair looked slightly disheveled—black at the roots, silver at the temples, and overall a grayish-white.
She stared at him, dazed, wondering just how old he really was... forty, fifty, or even sixty? How could his features still be so attractive, so handsome, even with a few wrinkles?
At that moment, Mr. L stopped gazing out the window and turned his head, meeting her eyes precisely.
For a brief moment, time seemed to stop.
His eyes were like hooks dipped in a potent drug, making her heart skip a beat and her limbs feel weak.
By the time Lola came to her senses, the books had already fallen to the floor with a loud crash. One of them even split open, revealing the image of a mature woman with golden-brown curls, a brown mole on her cheek, and a white dress. Embarrassment surged through her, turning her cheeks bright red for the first time. Without looking at Mr. L, she quickly crouched down to pick up the scattered books.
A long, slender hand reached down to help her pick up one of the books.
She thought it was Mr. L coming to help, and her heart skipped a beat. But when she looked up, she saw a young, unfamiliar face.
The young man was wearing an olive-green T-shirt and dark purple beach shorts. His shoulder-length brown hair was topped with a straw hat. When he saw Lola looking at him, he took off his hat, placed it over his chest, and smiled at her. "Did you just start working at this restaurant? I'm a regular here."
Lola was about to roll her eyes at this flashy young man, but after hearing the second half of his sentence, she held back the urge and forced a smile. "Yes, I just started recently." She flashed him a fake smile and continued picking up her books.
The young man didn't notice her fake smile. He only saw her bright red lips and how her teeth were as neat and white as seashells, and her smile made his heart race. He moved closer and helped her stack the hardcover books. "So, has any customer requested you to serve them yet?"
Lola replied perfunctorily, "No, I've only been here a few days, and I don't even know all the restaurant members yet."
This restaurant operated like a club, with a membership system. As long as you paid a certain amount, you could become a member. The more you paid, the higher your membership level, and the better service you received. Becoming a member's designated server also meant getting a share of their monthly spending.
Lola had no interest in being anyone's personal maid—unless that person was Mr. L, of course.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, a pair of sharply defined Oxford shoes came into view. A deep, aloof voice sounded above her head: "What are you doing?"
It was Mr. L's voice.
Lola thought his voice must also be laced with some kind of potent drug; otherwise, why would just hearing it make her heart race and her legs go weak?
...Wait, what had he just said?
What are you doing?
Was he talking to her?
How should she answer?
Before she could figure out the best answer, another voice spoke up: "I'm helping this lovely lady pick up her books." It was the young man's voice again. "What's the matter, Dad? You're going to interfere with this too?"
It was as if she had been struck by lightning. The book in Lola's hand dropped to the ground with a "thud."
She must have misheard.
Did that young man just call her crush… Dad? So, that means he has a mom, right?
She should have realized it earlier. A man like Mr. L, with his handsome looks, gentle demeanor, and graceful manners—how could an older man like him not be married with children? She should have known.
Hot liquid silently filled Lola's eyes. Her nose felt stuffy, and the roof of her mouth tingled with a sour ache. She wanted to cry. But all she could do was grit her teeth and hold her breath, pretending to keep picking up the books.
Mr. L said calmly, "I know you're helping her pick up the books, but didn't you notice she doesn't want to talk to you?"
The young man laughed mockingly, "Oh, really? I didn't know Mr. Villiers was so good at reading people. If you'd had that skill when you were with my mother, maybe you wouldn't have ended up getting divorced."
The atmosphere froze for a moment, but Lola's eyes widened in delight: Mr. L was divorced?
"Noah!" Mr. L's tone grew cold.
Noah stood up and raised his hands. "Relax, take it easy. I didn't come here to argue with you today."
"Out of money?"
Noah shrugged. "That's about the only thing you know about me."
Mr. L paused, then pulled out a long wallet, took out a few hundred-dollar bills, and slapped them onto Noah's face. "Take it and get lost. I don't want to see you today."
Noah caught the green bills, kissed them twice, then pressed two fingers to his forehead and gave Mr. L a mocking salute. "As you wish." Then he waved at Lola, "I'll come find you another time, little beauty."
Out of respect for the fact that he was Mr. L's son, Lola waved back at him. She kept her expression neutral, but inside, she was so happy she nearly burst out laughing.
Mr. L was divorced and didn't have a wife! What could be more thrilling than knowing your crush was a widower?
In her excitement, she didn't notice Mr. L had squatted down and picked up one of her books. "Are you interested in royal etiquette?"
He was holding a book titled Illustrated Guide to British Royal Etiquette. She wasn't interested in British royal etiquette—or any royal etiquette, for that matter. She had only bought these books so he would notice her. And now, he really had spoken to her. It felt like a dream.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was very close to her, so close that if she moved just a little bit, she could touch the hem of his coat. The thought made her nervous, and she swallowed hard, quietly inching closer. Sure enough, her calf brushed against the hem of his coat. Even though it was just his coat, she felt as if she had touched his skin, and dizziness swept over her. Her heart fluttered wildly.
It was only after a long while that she remembered to respond to his question. "…Yes, I'm interested."
She thought he would say something like, "Then I'll teach you" or "If you have any questions, feel free to ask me," but instead, he just smiled gently and placed the book back into her arms. "It's good to read more books."
His fingers carried a sharp yet fresh scent, like gray-green cypress, hard and polished leather, and the fragrant bitterness of vetiver.
In an instant, her heart pounded so hard that her ears burned. At that moment, Lola finally understood why her mother had risked everything to chase after true love, even at the cost of being abandoned.
For people like them, it was impossible to resist the longing for another world.
To her, Mr. L was that other world.
After saying that, Mr. L seemed ready to leave. Watching his back, she suddenly realized that this was her chance. If she didn't act now, she might never have another opportunity to talk to him.
Suddenly, she moved like a weightlifter, carrying the 20-pound stack of hardcover books with ease as she ran lightly and quickly toward him. "Monsieur!" she called out, showing off her American-accented French a little. "If I have questions, can I ask you?"
He turned his head and looked at her.
The restaurant's décor was a mix of red, gold, and dark green, with burgundy carpets on the floor and napkins in crystal glasses that exuded luxury. Yet the girl in front of him looked like a sprite born from the blazing summer sun. Her honey-colored skin flushed from exertion, a sheen of sweat glistening on her nose, and her full red upper lip slightly pouted. Her gaze was pure and innocent, but there was a strange allure to her expression that no man could refuse.
Even though he hadn't spent much time with Noah, Mr. L still had a father's intuition—Noah had feelings for this girl. He didn't want Noah to be with her, not because of her job as a waitress, but because Noah was a terrible choice.
As Noah's father, he knew better than anyone what kind of awful boyfriend his son would be. Noah was a heavy drinker, got into fights, drag raced, took hallucinogens, and hung out with hippies at protests. In less than six months, he had gotten three girls pregnant, and they all had to have abortions. Being with someone like him was like stepping halfway into hell.
He didn't want to interfere, but he couldn't bear to see such a beautiful girl become the next one on the abortion table.
"You can." He paused and added, "But I have one condition."
The moment Mr. L agreed, Lola nearly jumped for joy. She took a deep breath to maintain her demure appearance. "What condition?"
"Don't accept any invitations from that boy," he said, then added, "I mean, any invitations."
"No problem, no problem." She agreed without a second thought, shyly squirming as she shifted the weight of the 20-pound books. "Thank you… I'm really happy to get your guidance!"
Mr. L lightly brushed his nose with his left index finger and smiled helplessly. "If you don't understand something, feel free to ask me. But I can't guarantee I'll always be at this restaurant. And I don't know much about ladies' etiquette. There's no need to be so excited."
If they weren't still so unfamiliar with each other, she would have screamed, thrown her arms around his neck, and given him a big, heavy kiss on the cheek.
He had no idea how she felt. Even if this was the last time he came to the restaurant, even if it was the last time they spoke, she would still be overjoyed.
He was her other world. She had never dared dream of seeing that world, and even if he handed her the key, she wouldn't have dared to enter.
But being gifted the key by him was enough to make her ecstatic.
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