The question caught Bri unawares, and she hesitated, glancing at William. "Um…" she started, unsure how to answer.
She didn't exactly remember when they first met, not clearly. It was somewhere around the time her mother passed on. She must have been nine, or maybe older when her grandmother Margaret, Eleanor's closest friend, brought her to the Whitmore estate for a visit.
Across the table, William looked up briefly, then continued eating as though the conversation had nothing to do with him. In his mind, however, the memory came rushing back.
He was thirteen, sitting at the porch with a book in hand. Then he saw a little girl in a white cotton dress, barefoot, laughing as she chased butterflies across the garden. She had just lost her mother, he later learned, but she had so much light in her. From then on, he couldn't look away.
Before Bri could speak, Eleanor broke the silence.
" Not really. They met earlier than that," she said warmly, her voice cutting through. "When Bri lost her mother about twelve years ago, Margaret, my dearest friend since childhood, took her in. She brought her to the estate quite often back then. That's when these two met. Right, William?"
As all eyes turned to him, william swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and gave a faint nod. "Grandma is right."
Vivian smiled softly. "I didn't realize you two had such history. That's quite a story. Almost like fate, isn't it?"
Across the table, Kate couldn't stay quiet. She dropped her fork dramatically, her voice smooth but cutting. "That's funny mom," she said. "Because the night after their wedding, William didn't even spend the night at his house. William, din't you say it was an arranged marriage? Chris told me so."