"Ohio! My boy, Wesley!" The voice of the old man in white tuxedo etched as he approached Charlotte and Wesley who were having a fake toast at the bar. The old man looking like an elf push-passed his way through the little crowd gathered at the center of the ballroom to make it to them.
Charlotte's eyes narrowed to examine the Grandpa. He is as vibrant as he sounds. Money sure makes a man look younger. She had began to mentally guess his age, fifty, no sixty, nah, should be seventy-five. Her body itched to ask Wesley but she held on. His cologne was so strong that she wondered if he got choked sometimes. She was literally choking, must cost a fortune.
Wesley flashed a smile at the man, he had a glass of champagne in his hands, with the other he embraced Wesley who stood feets above him.
