Oh, wow...darn horrible Henry...Camila should be with George, not that bully of a man!
Selly always has me smiling...I love cute kids!

c'mon pams!!!

Haha, okay, okay! Am working on it. Thanks for all your reviews guys - I know we all hate Henry, but there is a bit more to it than him being an absolute jerk, you know.

Wow, I finally caught up. I don't think that missed to much did I?


I think that George is sweet on Cam. Who the idoit who insulted her clothes? her boyfriend? Make her dump him and then trample on his "never-wear-a-pair-of-shoes-twice" litle face!

very tru, is henry a wizard??? Im still here!! I slept infront of the screen(ok maybe i didnt) waiting for the next post but nothing happened!
C'mon pams pams!!

NEW READER!!

wowzers! this is really good.

subscribeddd..

LIA~

yay! I caught up! that is still soooo good! PAMS!

Thanks you guys! Your reviews are absolutely wonderfully smile-making! (Yes, I just invented that.) It took me a LOT longer than I thought to get this post out, although that has more to do with the immense work load in my AP class this year than me being lazy...for once.
Well, anyway, enjoy!

Walking into the Tipton, Camila was immediately overwhelmed with the grandiose décor. She squeezed Selly’s hand and tried to figure out where the old lady might be waiting for them.

An old man, probably close to retiring, approached her in a formal butler-like suit. “Are you Mrs. Hamilton’s guest, the one from the bus incident?” he asked. His voice was a deep baritone.

“Y-yes,” Camila answered, resisting the urge to raise her eyebrows.

“Follow me.”

He began walking briskly down the main aisle. Selly was almost running to keep up with them. “Slow down!” she demanded. The man did not turn around, but he obviously heard her because his pace decreased a bit. As they walked, Camila tried to extract some information about Mrs. Hamilton from him. He, however, remained tight-lipped and gave curt, one-word answers. Hence, all she learned was that Mrs. Hamilton was a very rich widow.


They finally reached a small room, whose walls were painted a subtle gold with splashes of red. Matching furniture graced the lush, carpeted floor. On one end of a large sofa sat the old lady. She looked as perfectly at home here as she looked out-of-place on the floor of the bus.



Quickly, Mrs. Hamilton bid the man to leave. “Sit down, honey,” she said, gesturing at Camila. Selly had already plopped down on the opposite sofa. The depth of it almost completely obscured her from view.



Camila hesitantly helped herself to a cookie as she sat down. The cookie was extremely thin and delicate, laced with butter and a trace of pistachio - clearly a very expensive treat. At her side, Selly munched happily on three of them. As Camila introspected that Mrs. Hamilton was probably left all of the wealth when her husband died, the lady spoke once again.


"My husband, god bless his soul, used to love these cookies." She waved her hand at the cookies laid out in the center of the table, encouraging them to help themselves. "He would easily gobble down a box in a day! And when I reminded him of his high cholesterol, he'd just reply 'Well, what's the point of living when I can't even do what I want?'"


Mrs. Hamilton was reminiscing fondly and Camila watched her slowly come back to herself. She couldn't help it, so she blurted out the childish question, "Do you miss him a lot?"


The smile the lady sent her way was omniscient. "Everyday, every moment," she answered. Her tone lacked the finality that speakers have when they're done talking, so Camila didn't say anything. She was right to maintain her silence; Mrs. Hamilton was only searching for the right words. "Still I go on living, because I know he wouldn't have wanted me tied down with his memories. I can remember everything he said as clear as yesterday and - and it's his voice in my head that guides me through everything. In a way, he's not really gone - the physical support he used to provide me isn't there, but everyday he encourages me emotionally. That's what really matters. I pity anyone who makes a hasty decision and chooses a partner who can't provide them with emotional support."


The words clutched her heart and Camila felt her breath leaving her almost painfully. She noticed how Mrs. Hamilton's dark eyes were staring at her intently, earnestly trying to communicate this priceless piece of wisdom. How could Camila tell her that her choice had already been made? How could she tell her that she would be with a man who could do little in terms of providing her anything save for blows? Keeping her face as blank as possible, Camila avoided saying anything and settled for a little nod. "Now then, young lady, I don't think we've even introduced ourselves properly. Let me be first: I am Maria Hamilton, an ex-journalist. No kids, no family, save for Tiger, my dog."


Slightly taken aback at her brisk change of mood, Camila couldn't help widening her eyes. Selly took this brief silence to mean that it was her turn. "My name is Tinsel Mendoza - but nobody ever calls me that. I'm Selly. And I'm 8 years old. I have one sister-" Here she held up a finger. "Our parents are dead, but it doesn't really matter, 'cause I don't remember them anyway. Sis does, but I don't think she misses them very much-"
"Selly, that's enough," Camila said sharply, cutting her off. Although everything her sister said was true, how could they trust a complete stranger with so much information? A voice in the back of her head reminded her that she had told George just as much, if not more, and she'd only known him for a bit longer. She reddened slightly, but attempted to hide her rudeness by introducing herself.


"Well, dear, it was awfully kind what you did for me today-"


"-Oh, it was nothing," Camila interrupted.


The old lady paid her no heed but instead said, "I usually don't take the bus; I have a chaffeur who takes me to church or wherever I need to go. But he was sick today and I didn't want to take a cab, I wanted to remember the everyday hustle-bustle of the bus - well, I really did get what I wanted, didn't I?" Then she laughed, a deep, throaty sound that was contained within itself. Camila smiled as well.


They chatted idly for a little while. Being a reporter, Mrs. Hamilton's tongue was sharp, but she tried to restrain herself as Selly was around. However, being a reporter also gave a her a lot of interesting knowledge - and skills for detecting when people were hiding something. Camila had to be really careful when talking.


As they floated into what was bound to be an awkward silence, the old lady spoke again, "You certainly look like a real beauty, dear. Is there someone special you're going to meet?"


Camila's answer surprised even her. "No, I just came from meeting someone special. But I do have to meet somebody else at 6; he made me promise." Her tone was apologetic; she clearly didn't have a choice in the matter.
The omniscient smile that graced Mrs. Hamilton's face seemed to be a trademark of hers. Fortunately, she didn't question the matter.


Feeling bad, and being quite intrigued by the old lady, Camila offered, "We could meet some other time. Maybe for lunch tomorrow?"


"Oh, honey, I don't want you to go out of your way-"


"No! I really would like to meet you again," Camila insisted sincerely.


"All right, let's meet here again for lunch. I'll take you to the Imperial - the Chinese cuisine in the right wing. It's really wonderful." Despite herself, Mrs. Hamilton could not completely contain her excitement.


"That sounds wonderful," Camila replied.


"Oh, and bring the special someone you were talking about! I certainly would like to meet him as well."


Warning bells rang in her head. Henry would never come to lunch with an old lady - and how could she explain to George that Mrs. Hamilton thought they were attached?


As she tried to refuse on George behalf, Mrs. Hamilton shook her head. "I don't care how busy he is - he should make time if he is going to go out with a lovely girl such as yourself. No, you must bring him tomorrow," she commanded imperiously. Then her tone changed completely. "You better go now, honey, it's five til. You don't want to keep your friend waiting."


Still panicking, Camila grabbed Selly's hand and Selly grabbed a few more of the cookies, yelling out a hasty "Thanks!" as they left.

wooh!
that was awesome.
>.< bad henry!
PAMSSS
xx

that was awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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AWESOME!!!!
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=( I know it looks like "spam" but its really pams, lol

<3 Lilly

LOL *PANIC ALERT PANIC ALERT!*

I liked the lady. She was cool.

And I looooooooove Tinsel's name..."Selly" is SO cool I want to use that in some story of mine (not on here) if that's ok by you

Love
.:Adrienne:.

oh, this plot is so complicated! I love it!!!
PAMS!

Dropping Selly off at home, Camila quickly apparated to the Parisian – two minutes late. Henry wouldn’t let her hear the end of it for the entire night. On the bright side, he had no snide comments to make about her dress – Ginny’s selection was honestly impeccable.



As the long night ended and they apparated together to Henry’s house, Camila felt a familiar pounding begin as all her blood rushed to her head. Just looking at Henry’s broad form, standing imperiously and looking at her as if he owned her made her shiver.



Reminding herself once again why she stayed with him, she closed her eyes and forced herself to accept it as he stepped closer and closer, feverishly wishing for anything else, anyone else…a pair of warm brown eyes invaded her brain….she felt immediately calmed…and focused on them…there’s a tomorrow, she reminded herself…tomorrow and warm brown eyes…
--
Blearily walking into the joke shop, Camila couldn’t believe it was only her third day working here. She already felt so much at home amongst the shelves, the customers, and her new bosses.



“I’ve already dropped off Selly,” she answered George’s questioning look after the customary hellos.


He took a long look at her: her hair was in its usual messy bun, but it seemed as if she had slept like that. Her murky eyes were red-rimmed and there were signs of bags under them. Even her clothes looked more crumpled. Cautiously, George asked, “Are you okay?”


In return, he got a weak smile and a nod. Clearly, she wasn’t.


Hoping to distract her, he asked, “How was your party last night, with your…boyfriend?” For some reason, he had trouble voicing that word – as if it were some particularly putrid piece of spinach he couldn’t swallow.


Putting more effort into it this time, she gave him a brighter smile and said, “Fine.”


Frustrated, he almost sighed. Not wanting her to know how much it bothered him, he silently handed her the accounts and let her drag herself upstairs. Although she insisted to help with the morning rush, he made sure that she stayed upstairs and out of bustling crowds. George was scared she might trip and fall over; she was walking around so faintly and almost…lifelessly.


Fred was there to help with the rush today, and between the two of them they managed fine. When it abated, he left Fred to manage the counter and went upstairs to check on Camila.


Despite her shabby appearance, when he saw her sitting on the wooden chair, her loose hair glowing in the sunlight and her entire face hidden in shadow – he couldn’t help but think she was a vision.


Taking small steps towards her, he inquired quietly, “Are you okay?”


She looked up at him and gave that same weak smile accompanied by a nod.


“Oh, come on, now, don’t insult my intelligence. You don’t want to tell me – don’t. But don’t pretend…” George started off strong, but in the end he was almost pleading with her.


His voice forced her to keep her eyes trained on those warm brown ones. They looked like dark, melted chocolate – the type you could easily drown in and never even notice. They were the eyes that had guided her through the previous night, the reason she wasn’t nearly as broken this morning as she could have been.


“Yeah,” she consented, her voice barely above a whisper. Suddenly, Camila felt her eyes moistening. ‘Don’t cry,’ she instructed herself. ‘Don’t. You’ll look weak. Plus, there’s no reason to cry-’ She had almost succeeded in holding back her emotions when George suddenly reached across and pulled her close. Try as she might, he had seen those tears glistening in her eyes. And although he was puzzled and curious, he realized she wasn’t ready to tell him yet. So, he held her silently and she gratefully let the tears descend, marring their way down her light olive cheeks.
Neither could even begin guessing how long they stayed like that; it could have been a moment, an hour, or the entire day. Time seemed to have stopped, forming a bubble around the two of them which nothing could penetrate.


When Camila finally felt ready, she realized she didn’t want to let go. Silently scolding herself, she pulled back, but not before tentatively whispering in George’s ear, “You know, it’s just been three days…and there are already so many things I’m thanking you for. Add this to the list.”
As she drew away, she wondered if her whispering had even half the effect on him as his words had had on her yesterday. She almost blushed again, thinking of his lips so near her ears, whispering words sweeter than anything she had heard in ages.


“Anything for a pretty lady,” George replied, doing an excellent imitation of the sleazy American accent. A smile tugged the corners of Camila’s lips – no matter what her mood, George seemed incapable of allowing her do anything but laugh.



--


A/N: Alright, I know it's been a while, and I have one word for you: school.

Other than that, I hope you guys like this post.

It's one of my personal favorites, there's a lot going on with the plot and the characters, so take the time to read it carefully. Also, since it's been so long, you might want to go ahead and skim a few of the previous posts or re-read the entire story to understand where it's at right now.

Adrienne: Um, sorry for replying so late. But of course you can use Selly's name, go right ahead!

And, as always, review! If any of you are still reading, that is.