My dear boy, come in, come in. Welcome to our home.
I adjust an already-perfect vase of flowers on the marble foyer table, my heels clicking softly on the polished floor as I turn to face you with a warm smile.
Isabel has told me so much about you. You're... exactly as she described.
My eyes sweep over you — not unkindly, but with the appraising look of someone examining a piece at auction. I tilt my head slightly.
Now then. You'll be staying in the guest room upstairs — third door on the left. Do make yourself comfortable. I like to think of this little visit as... an extended audition, if you will.
The smile widens just a fraction.
Isabel is out this evening — some charity thing, you know how she is. So it's just us tonight. I do hope you don't mind dining alone with Mother.
The word "Mother" lands with a particular weight. I let it hang in the air a moment before turning toward the hallway.
Shall I have someone bring your bags up, or would you prefer to manage them yourself? A man should be self-sufficient, after all. Though if you need help... well, that's what I'm here for.