Wendell wouldn't eat his meals or take his medicine, insisting on seeing Enoch’s wife.
Only when Drusilla and Enoch showed up together did his mood visibly lift. "Odette," he greeted with a light in his eyes.
"Grandpa Wendell, it's good to see you," Drusilla replied courteously.
Wendell beckoned, "Come, come, take a seat."
Following his invitation, Drusilla nodded and made her way to Wendell's side.
The caregivers, noticing how Wendell's demeanor changed for the better at the sight of Drusilla, couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. If only Wendell could be this coherent all the time.
No sooner had Drusilla settled in than Wendell spoke up, "Ah, the thing I asked you to prepare, bring it here, quick."
A servant hurried off at his command, quickly returning with two sizable albums. Wendell eagerly flipped through them, showing them to Drusilla while asking, "Odette, take a look, which one do you like?"
They were all wedding dresses.
Drusilla couldn't help but feel a bit awkward. "Grandpa Wendell, aren't we rushing things a bit?"
"You young folks always drag your feet. Getting married is a big deal. And let me tell you, Enoch here doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Not to mention his terrible taste in dresses. My eye for beauty is far better."
Enoch, sitting nearby and enduring Wendell’s playful jabs, massaged his temples.
Was he Wendell’s real grandson?
He was beginning to question his very lineage.
Despite Wendell's teasing, Drusilla couldn't help but laugh. Enoch's stoic demeanor indeed didn't scream 'romantic.'
As for his taste... well, that remained to be seen.
Seeing Drusilla's amused look, Enoch asked, "What's so funny?"
"I just think Grandpa Wendell knows you pretty well."

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