Grandfather Robert's Will
Chapter 29's

It rained all night, many puddles along the road and in front of Robert's grandfather's house were also many puddles. While walking, Rachel jumped him.

He is satisfied with himself, his work is going very well. The earrings he managed to create were truly unique, so unique that he designed a piece of necklace to accompany it. The jewels were large and large with copper and gold geometric shapes. Not all women are suitable to wear it, but women who are suitable to wear it will not just waltz without being noticed by people around him.

For Rachel, the jewelry was a self-assertion of a tough, disciplined woman. He was also satisfied with the shoulder sweep earrings he created using jet black and silver beads. The beads had been painstakingly combined, and upon completion, the result was an elegantly seductive masterpiece. If his work rhythm remains stable, he can send the work to the boutique that ordered it, before Christmas.

When he opened the kitchen door, he was very hungry and in his best mood.

“...if you feel better in a day or two,” said Jesica briefly, then turned around as if surprised to see Rachel already inside. “Oh, don't feel like a quick time once passed. It's lunch time and I just finished those pies.”

“Ape pie!?” Grinning, Rachel moved closer. But Jesica looked on with satisfaction because Rachel had already observed Nyoman. “There are still contents left?” tanyanya while dipping her fingers into the bowl. Jesica patted Rachel's hand. “You're out of work using that hand. Wash first in the sink, after that you can eat your lunch after I finish preparing it.”

Submissively, Rachel turned her body towards the tap. Among the noise of water pouring out, he whispered to Jesica, “Is Nyoman not feeling well?”

“Bursitis is back again. The problem is, the weather is cold. Though being old, already a problem.”

Bursitis is an inflammation of fluid-filled pads (bursae) that act as cushions on the joints. Bursitis most often occurs in joints that often perform repetitive movements.

He slapped his hand against his back as if he were in pain. “I think we both slowed down a bit. Pain and ache.” Jesica sighed while looking at Rachel fixedly. “This is just part of being old.”

Rachel rubbed her hand even more strongly, telling herself that she should have paid more attention to Nyoman. “You guys are working too much.”

“Holiday will be here soon..” Jesica stopped talking and acted pretentious by arranging the pie cover dough. “Yes, decorating this house is indeed a hard job, but the results will definitely be satisfactory. Nyoman and I will handle the boxes in the attic this afternoon.”

“Do not be silly.” Rachel turned off the water tap and grabbed a towel. “I will drop the decoration boxes.”

“No, no, Miss, the box is too much and mostly too heavy for a little girl like you. That's part of our job. Right, Nyoman?”

“Don't worry, miss Rachel. Jesica and I will take care of it.”

“Of course can't be so.” Rachel returned the towel to the hanger. “ Jenson and I will bring it all down this afternoon, period. Now I'll tell him to come to lunch.”

Jesica waited until the door closed and Rachel completely lost sight before grinning.

At the top, Rachel knocks on Jenson's door twice, then breezes in. Jenson kept typing. Lowering her self-esteem slightly, Rachel approached Jenson's desk and folded her hands. “I need to talk to you right now.”

“Talk it later. I'm busy.”

An annoyance reached Rachel's throat. Recalling Jesica's tired voice, he muffled it. “This is very important.” He gritted his teeth when he said that. “Tree.”

“Not, not that. Jenson, we have to decorate this house for Christmas.”

For a moment Jenson looked at him, swore and turned back to his machine. “I have a twelve-year-old boy who is being kidnapped for a ransom of three hundred million. That's what matters.”

“Jenson, can you just get rid of that imaginary country for a second? It's real.”

“So is this. Just ask my producer.”

“Jenson!”

Before Jenson could stop him, Rachel pulled the paper from her typewriter. Jenson had already half risen from her seat to reply. “It's about Jesica and Nyoman.”

The sentence stops him, though he recaptures the paper from Rachel's hands. “What's with them?”

“Bursitis Nyoman is back again, and I'm sure Jesica is not feeling well. He sounds, well, old.”

“She is old.” But Jenson put the paper on the table. “You think we need to call the doctor?”

“Do not, they can be angry.” Rachel went around her desk, trying to pretend she wasn't reading part of the script. “Better keep an eye on them these few days and make sure they don't work too hard. Well, therefore we will do the decoration for Christmas.”

“I thought you meant it. Look, if you want to do it, go ahead. I don't have time for that today.”

“So did I.” His arms folded in a way that left Jenson astonished. “Jesica and Nyoman think it should be done. If we don't want to see them fight the stairs of the attic, we have to clean it up.”

“Christmas is still three weeks away.”

“I know the date.” Frustrated, Rachel walked towards the door, then came back again. “They are old and they insist that it must be done. You know Grandpa Robert must have done it the day after Thanksgiving. It's already tradition.”

“Good.” Stuck, Jenson got up. “Come we start.”

“Just after lunch.” Satisfied with getting her will, Rachel soon passes.

Forty-five minutes later, he and Jenson pushed the attic door open. The attic, in Robert's tradition, was large enough to house a family of five. “Oh, I've forgotten how amazing this place is.” Forgetting herself, Rachel grabs Jenson's hand and pulls her inside. “Look at this table, isn't it so bad?”

It's a bad situation. Old and full of arched and cupid-shaped ornaments, the table was placed in a corner to accommodate personal items that Robert had thrown away. “And a birdcage made of ice cream stalks. Grandpa Robert said that he took six months to complete, but then he could not bear to put a bird in it.”

“Lucky once his bird,” muttered Jenson, but found himself, as always, washed away in the charm of that dusty place. “Shoe sheath,” she said and lifted a pair from the top of a box. “Can you see Grandpa Robert there?”