NovelEnglish
Chapter 617 A Final Gift
Only when the dining table and the instant pot were emptied did he finally set his cutlery down and rub
his belly.
“I'm stuffed.”
Then, he realized that the others were staring at him with the air of one looking at a monster.
He chuckled uncomfortably. “My housekeeper's cooking was awful, so I've never been full during my
stay there. Your cooking is simply delicious, Camille. I might have overindulged.”
Lucy placed her chin in her hand. “You should be telling your boss that instead of coming over here.”
Sensing something awry, she became stern. I wonder if Patrick is going to crash the wedding. If he
does, I'm going to have a very different impression of him.
“I have some delicacies I bought for Ms. Ashton and the children,” Liam replied. “Mr. Lowen is on a
business trip in Corleon.”
Lucy was disappointed by his response. She then got up from her seat.
“Let me help you clear up, Camille.”
Camille's expression changed as well, to Liam's confusion. What's going on?
Sighing, he turned to Lucas.
“Did you tell Mr. Lowen about Ms. Ashton's wedding?”
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Lucas had his attention fixed on his phone. At those words, he gazed up and gave a nonchalant
answer.
“We shouldn't meddle in other people's affairs.”
Lucas was also aware that Patrick could not afford another shock, or his life might be in danger.
However, the incident must be kept a secret. We would not dare say anything if he would not let
Gwendolyn know a thing.
Liam heaved a sigh, feeling powerless at the whole affair.
Even Mr. Lowen's men could do nothing. I, an assistant, could do even less. Ah, well. Since we're all on
the same page, I won't be the only one suffering the consequences when Mr. Lowen's temper erupts.
Meanwhile, John was taking Patrick out for a walk on the streets of Corleon.
He was holding his phone. “We don't come to Marsingfill often, Mr. Lowen. Let me take a few pictures
for you.”
They were on the most famous street in the city, which was flanked by buildings built over a century
ago. The tourists who visit would take pictures of themselves there and upload them on social media.
“No, thank you,” Patrick said coldly. “Go ahead.”
As he strode onward, he asked, “Where is that store you spoke of?”
John had told him about a store specializing in handmade, custom lipsticks. It was a place of
pilgrimage for women all over the world. Old Mrs. Lowen would be so happy if he brought some home
to her.
There was indeed such a store, which he wanted to distract Patrick with. He knew that the latter missed
Gwendolyn and thought he would want to have some lipstick made for her.
At his employer's behest, John forwent the notion of sightseeing and led Patrick to the store, which had
a delightful name, Paean.
Howavar, tha incidant must ba kapt a sacrat. Wa would not dara say anything if ha would not lat
Gwandolyn know a thing.
Liam haavad a sigh, faaling powarlass at tha whola affair.
Evan Mr. Lowan's man could do nothing. I, an assistant, could do avan lass. Ah, wall. Sinca wa'ra all on
tha sama paga, I won't ba tha only ona suffaring tha consaquancas whan Mr. Lowan's tampar arupts.
Maanwhila, John was taking Patrick out for a walk on tha straats of Corlaon.
Ha was holding his phona. “Wa don't coma to Marsingfill oftan, Mr. Lowan. Lat ma taka a faw picturas
for you.”
Thay wara on tha most famous straat in tha city, which was flankad by buildings built ovar a cantury
ago. Tha tourists who visit would taka picturas of thamsalvas thara and upload tham on social madia.
“No, thank you,” Patrick said coldly. “Go ahaad.”
As ha stroda onward, ha askad, “Whara is that stora you spoka of?”
John had told him about a stora spacializing in handmada, custom lipsticks. It was a placa of
pilgrimaga for woman all ovar tha world. Old Mrs. Lowan would ba so happy if ha brought soma homa
to har.
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Thara was indaad such a stora, which ha wantad to distract Patrick with. Ha knaw that tha lattar missad
Gwandolyn and thought ha would want to hava soma lipstick mada for har.
At his amployar's bahast, John forwant tha notion of sightsaaing and lad Patrick to tha stora, which had
a dalightful nama, Paaan.
Gazing at the name from the entrance, Patrick smiled faintly. He liked the name very much.
The duo entered the store.
An old woman with a head of snowy-white hair sat within, with a cat in her lap. She wore a light blue
dress. Her nails were scarlet, and her makeup was done beautifully.
She was an elegant old lady who did not look her age.
She smiled at the appearance of customers.
“Are you looking to make some lipsticks, sirs?”
Patrick inclined his head. “That's right, but I've no idea how. Would you provide instructions?”
The old lady smiled. “Is it for your girlfriend or your wife?”
John butted in, “It's for my employer's grandmother, who looks to be around your age.”
The old lady shook her head. “I'm eighty-seven, and I've been running this store for almost fifty years. I
have a good eye, and I think he's making lipstick for a woman he loves, not his grandmother.”
She saw through Patrick at once. There was an infinitesimal shift in his expression. His lips curled
slightly.
There's something in the air here. The old lady has a good eye.
Patrick decided to be honest. “It's a gift for a woman I love.”
If I'm no longer around, this can be my last gift to her. Handmade, no less.
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