Nicholas rolled his eyes as his mom's call woke him up from his sleep. It seemed she had just gotten abreast of what occurred earlier in the evening at the blind date she had set him up on with one of her friends' daughters.

He picked up the call and placed it on his ear, his eyes half closed, while laying his chest down on the bed with the other side of his face pressed against the pillow.

"Nicholas!" Miranda screeched into the phone, startling him awake.

He held the phone immediately away from his ear, mentally chiding himself for not having foreseen a reaction like that from her.

"Mom," he said calmly.

"You ruined that date again," she bit out each word at a time through her teeth. "I was told the poor girl suffered emotional trauma from her experience with you in the evening and deeply regretted ever listening to her mom or taking up my offer to go out on a date with you!"

"I didn't ruin the date, Mom. It just happened that Harriet's bodily scent got in the way," he explained flatly.

"What?"

"I can't go into the details right now. Perhaps we could get to that later, Mom. I need to get back to sleep, please. It's been a very long day."

Miranda scoffed over the phone, rolling her tongue in her mouth. "Are you dissing me? Nicholas!"

"Mom, please," Nicholas groaned, rolling over to his back.

He held the phone to his ear, releasing an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, Mom. I'm sorry that date got ruined as well, but it's true. It wasn't my fault it got ruined." 

"Well, I'm all ears. Tell me what excuse you have to give this time," Miranda demanded, irritation etched in her voice. 

Nicholas twitched his mouth. "You really should quit doing this, Mom. I have no interest in being involved with any of your acquaintances' daughters, however beautiful they may be."

"What exactly is holding you back, Nicholas?"

"I told you, Mom. I'm not ready for all this. When it's the right time for me, I will do what needs to be done. Stop trying to pressure me into marriage, please."

He emitted a strangled groan as he raked his fingers through his hair.

"Do I need to remind you that you are not getting younger? You are nearing your forties, Nick. This is the exact moment you ought to start making plans for settling down and having a family, son," Miranda told him.

"Your father and I wouldn't have had you if we had been dilly-dallying as you have been doing. Your father and I got married when we were in our early twenties.

Ah! The good old days." Miranda sighed as she reflected on the past.

Nicholas rolled his eyes as Miranda continued to wax nostalgic about her blissful memories with his dad, Richard, since their matrimony.

When Miranda finished her raconteur, Nicholas sighed.

"Do you get that, Nick?"

"Okay, Mom," he replied, his voice devoid of enthusiasm as he wearily rubbed his eyes with his fingers, the motion slow and lethargic.

"Good." Miranda clucked her tongue in approval. "Good night."

Finally. Nicholas stifled a yawn with the back of his hand as he murmured his response, "Good night, Mom."

"And dad too," he added. "I love you," he said, mouthing those words into the phone, holding it over his mouth while he spoke.

"I love you too, son. Good night."

She ended the call, and Nicholas placed the phone back on the side table.

He closed his eyes, willing sleep to take over, but it eluded him.

Hissing through his breath, he switched positions over the bed, annoyance settling in in a few minutes as sleep continued to elude him.

He hated being awakened by calls for this reason. His muscles tensed with waves of annoyance coursing sharply through him.

His mom was right after all. He was aging, and the more he aged, the crankier he got. 

Hell! He definitely needed some time to get laid.

 ****

Emily rubbed her hands nervously as she waited in her uncle's living room. She had stayed up late into the night, exhausting the list of potential family members from either side of her parents that she could seek help from.

She had gotten up early the following morning to meet with her dad's brother. Goosebumps crawled up her skin as she sat on the sofa she had been shown to by his wife upon her arrival.

"He will be here soon," she told Emily softly while she set a tray of refreshments on the stool beside the chair Emily was sitting on.

Emily nodded briefly, offering a polite smile. "Okay. Thanks, Aunt Jeanette."

"The pleasure is mine, Emily," Jeanette returned with a brilliant smile.

She returned to the inner part of the house to continue with what she had been doing before being interrupted by the doorbell upon Emily's arrival.

Emily watched with appreciation as Jeanette left the living room.

Jeanette was a chubby, sweet woman in her early fifties, a stark opposite both in appearance and character to her husband and Emily's uncle, Hank.

She had a warm and inviting presence. Her round face was adorned with rosy cheeks that seemed to perpetually carry a gentle smile. Her eyes, a soft shade of hazel, sparkled with warmth and kindness. Her silver-streaked hair was styled in a short, curly bob, framing her face with a touch of youthfulness.

Hank, on the other hand, exuded an aura of harshness and severity. His tall, lean frame seemed almost rigid, as if he were constantly on guard. His salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously combed back, revealing a receding hairline.His eyes, a vivid shade of blue, held an icy coldness to them that made Emily's palms water at the sight of him. He had lines that told tales of a life lived with a stern resolve etched on his face.

Emily leaped off the chair before she could think, as she sensed his presence in the room.

Her awe of him never thinned with age. She had developed that unease around him from the time she had come visiting with her parents.

Then she was twelve and forward, but her meeting once with her uncle had amended that mischievous side of her.

"Morning, Uncle." She swallowed quickly to hide the nervousness in her voice.

"Emily," he acknowledged briefly, taking a seat on his favorite seat, a leather recliner.

His voice was as deep and grave as she had recalled, unlike his wife's soft one.

He exhaled a contented sigh as he leaned into the chair. 

"What is so urgent that brings you by this early in the morning?" He inquired.

Spotting a neatly folded newspaper on the side table, he picked it up and opened it. The sound of its pages crinkling filled the air as he perused each page briefly before settling on one in the middle.

Emily sucked in her lip ring, twitching a corner of her cheek.

"Uhm! Uncle." Emily puffed air through her nose, her body tingling already in embarrassment from the dismissal Hank's attitude projected.

She smacked her lips and told him in a clear voice, "I need your help, Uncle Hank. I've been told by the doctor that Gabrielle needs to sign up for surgery, and there is limited time to get it done." 

She paused a breath, watching Hank's face.

He revealed no emotion on his face in reaction to what she had said. Instead, he flipped open another page of the newspaper, burying himself in it.

Emily's lips parted as she watched him. She smacked them close quickly, sitting up. "Uncle Hank? Did you hear what I told you?"

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes still sharp despite his age. "Of course I did. My hearing is intact and untouched by the passing years," he assured her.

Emily nodded subtly, her lips pressed into a thin line, anxiety evident in her eyes. "That's why I'm here, Uncle. I desperately need your help to save Gabrielle," she pleaded.

Hank set the newspaper down on the side table and leaned back, interlocking his fingers over his belly. He took a deep breath before speaking. "Tell me, Emily. How old are you now?"

Emily arched an eyebrow briefly, hesitantly answering, "Twenty-nine."

He nodded, a hint of mockery flickering across his features. "And how many years has it been since you graduated from school?"

Emily's frown deepened. "What does that have to do with anything, Uncle Hank? We need to focus on Gabrielle's situation."

"Focus?" He repeated, his voice tinged with irritation. "Your lack of focus is precisely why you're in this predicament."

"Pardon?" Emily's voice caught in her throat, a chill running down her spine.

"If only your father had listened to my advice back then and married you off to a wealthy suitor immediately when you came of age, neither would you be in this situation nor would Gabrielle's treatment be hanging in the balance."

Emily's mouth hung open at her uncle's harsh words.

A soft gasp echoed in the air, drawing Emily's attention. It hadn't come from her, but from Jeanette, Hank's wife. She set the tray of freshly brewed coffee down, the aroma filling the room as steam rose from the mug.

"That's not a nice thing to say, Hank," Jeanette chided softly.

Hank's face turned red with anger. "Don't tell me what's right for me to say or not, woman!"

Emily choked on her words, watching the tense exchange between her uncle and his wife.

"Hank!" Jeanette gasped, her voice no match for Hank's thundering tone.

"Am I wrong? It's a wasted opportunity for him to have invested so much in your education when he could have secured a wealthy suitor for you years ago," Hank spat out bitterly.

Emily's mouth hung open, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over her. 

"For crying out loud, Hank. This is no longer the middle age or Victorian era. Grow out of that hackneyed mentality of yours," Jeanette seethed through her teeth, frustration evident in her pitch.

"As if." Hank hissed. "You tell me where you ended up with the little studies you had. Could you ever think of living in luxury as much as this if I had not married you?"

The room fell silent, the tension suffocating.

Jeanette stood rigidly, her words caught in her throat, defeated.

Emily couldn't hide her reaction. Her breath hitched as her uncle's words sank in. She realized how fortunate Harris was to be born a boy and not a girl. Under Hank's care, no girl would thrive.

Harris was the only son the two had in their years of marriage, and he was only a few years older than her. It was little to no wonder that Harris had been the only child the two had been able to have from their marriage.

Emily could only hope for Jeanette's sake that Harris didn't take after Hank's character, or else it would be a thorough disaster for Jeanette.

She believed the sweet, old lady deserved more than that.

Hence, she silently thanked God that Jeanette had never given birth to a daughter. Emily couldn't help but wonder how Jeanette had endured living with Hank for so long.

Her mom didn't like him an ounce while she lived, and Emily could relate to why now. Her uncle had a despicable character.

Rubbing her palm awkwardly against her nape, Emily slowly rose from her seat, her lips pressed tightly together. She couldn't bring herself to meet her uncle's gaze or bid farewell to Jeanette. The embarrassment still weighed heavily on her.

She left the room without saying a word, closing the door behind her. As she stepped outside, she realized she had been holding her breath. Leaning against the nearest wall, she released a heavy exhale, wheezing in relief.