"Mr. Windsor?"
The young female flower farmer was a Chinese student, an exchange student lodging with an old flower grower's family on the estate, who would come to the manor to help out with her host family's flower work on her days off.
This wasn't the first time Eric had seen this girl, but it was the first time he had, in a daze, taken her voice for someone else's…
Maybe all girls in their early twenties were the same—pretty, lively, a bit mischievous…
Making a nearly forty-year-old single man like him feel something fresh, something young, something he couldn't resist.
Eric lost the urge to "bury flowers," stood up, clapped his hands, and casually asked her in the local language,
"Are you getting used to tending the flowers here?"
The girl's skin was on the darker side, probably from being out in the sun a lot. Black eyes, a small nose dotted with a few freckles, which somehow didn't make her look the least bit unpleasant.
