Two feet descended from either side of the car, both clad in strappy high heels, an unapologetic red on the right side, and a royal blue on the other side, and both speaking of class and sophistication before their owners even appeared.
On the left side, the woman who came out, looking in her late twenties or at most in her early thirties, was clad in a skirt suit, its grey, a light ashy tone. With simple accessories to go with her sober look, her long dark hair was gathered in a high ponytail and styled with bangs on the forehead and long strands at the sides to frame her face for a bright spirited look. She was holding a notebook against her chest, while carrying in her other hand a handbag matching her shoes, presenting an overall temperament not unlike a secretary, or a personal assistant.
She took in the surroundings with her greyish-blue eyes, her sharp temperament shining through as she leaned forward slightly in a respectful greeting just like the driver bowed earlier, then spun on her heels to go around the car to stand before the auburn-haired woman who came down from that side of the car, dressed in an off-white blouse and a slit skirt, with a red purse in hand. The latter's hair was cut short but wavy, framing her face with a youthful final touch to her timeless grace.
She looked dignified, steady in temperament, and elegant in bearing. But at the same time as she visibly carried the weight of her status, the calm of her lake-green eyes gave her an intellectual approachability that softened her edge, adding a grace to her poise that the younger black-haired woman could not imitate.
Facing her, it would be an insult to simply reduce her to a beautiful woman with an attractive figure and an ageless charm. Even when dressed casually, she seemed like a queen coming down her throne for a stroll. She acknowledged the younger woman with a glance, then turned to the black car that had arrived before hers, to look at the man who was standing beside it.
With metallic blue eyes, streaks of grey in his dark hair, and a skin that had weathered the years but remained healthy, he was not young anymore, but he remained handsome and fit enough, with the kind of refined temperament that would still make younger heads of the opposite gender turn. He nodded when he met the gaze of the green eyes, and greeted calmly in a deep masculine voice:
"Grace. I didn't expect you to be the last one to arrive."
"Marten. Today is a Saturday, I think I can afford to let go a little and arrive just on time. Moreover, unlike you, I never sought to be the head of the Lenner family. I have always been just a hapless woman who married in and can afford to relax a little."
Grace, the owner of the green eyes, also nodded, and greeted back with a similar calm indifference. There was nary a hint of familial affection in the exchange of words. It instead gave the impression of swords being crossed in the air in search of any point of weakness to pry into. So, when she casually patched up the breach by pointing out that she was the last to arrive but not late, Marten, the mature man with streaks of grey in his hair, simply pressed further without any change in his expression:
"Hapless? But you are the one who remained, while Garland got exiled."
Grace simply smiled at that:
"That is normal. I was just a weak woman who had been wronged, so the old man simply meted out the punishment he thought was just."
"Weak, indeed."
Marten nodded slowly, his tone full of an implied meaning totally different from his words, then abruptly changed the subject:
"I get that Michael and Raphael could not make it, and rightfully so, as they are busy, but I see that Alex still did not come today either. Any new reason for that?"
As if she heard none of the sarcasm in the calm deep voice across, Grace nodded and genuinely replied:
"A reason? Yes. But not a new one. You know how free spirited my youngest son has always been. So long as that makes him happy, I don't see any need to force him into things he has no interest in."
"Is that so?"
Marten gave Grace a deep look. He seemed ready to say something again, when he was interrupted by a voice coming from inside the mansion:
"Husband, you are here!"
With a pair of heels rhythmically clacking against the smooth floor, a woman came out from the open door on the right, as mature as Grace, but with less of everything the latter was portraying, whether elegance, grace, or refinement, though she still surpassed the majority of women in those areas, having also gotten more refined with age. She had her hair combed on one side, the calm reddish tint of its brown forming a contrast with the coffee brown of her plaid skirt suit.
She descended the short flight of stairs and came to hug Marten who returned the embrace with one hand and lightly placed a kiss on her cheek, before greeting:
"Julene."
She took a step back with a smile, and lightly smoothed the creases on her husband's suit with her careful touches. It was then that she finally turned to the side, as if only now noticing Grace and the younger woman beside her, and she smiled, after letting a flicker of surprise pass through her eyes:
"Oh, Grace, sister-in-law, it has been a while. I see that you have come to the family gathering alone, as always. So, what were you talking about with the second brother of your husband?"
Grace gave Julene a calm smile, but didn't reply to her question:
"Julene, I see that you have arrived early. So, I take it that everything is ready, isn't it?"
"Indeed."
Julene's graceful smile deepened as she replied, her eyes glinting with a satisfied sense of accomplishment. Before she could continue the conversation, however, Marten pressed down on her waist and interrupted:
"Julene, have Gilem and Sepp arrived?"
Julene glanced at her husband, got his meaning, and smiled:
"Yes, our children have arrived already. We have not educated them to be willful, after all, so they came early."
Marten nodded lightly, and stepped forward:
"Then, let's go in too."