when she left he went crazy (Hope and Christopher) novel Chapter 150

Chapter 150: Of Course I Think About Her 

The Hammer family manor was an expansive estate, steeped in a sense of historical grandeur and antiquated charm. One glance told you this house had been handed down through the generations. While the exterior had been tastefully renovated, the interior still bore the whispers of yesteryears. 

It wasn’t as ostentatious as I had anticipated, but even a seemingly nonchalant porcelain vase tucked in a corner was a prized antique, valued at millions 

Jerry, with his effortlessly long strides, moved at a leisurely pace, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, exuding an air of nonchalance. 

He guided me past the sprawling dining room and led me directly to the back garden. From afar, two elegantly dressed elderly women came into view. One sat by the fireplace, savoring her coffee, while the other meticulously pruned a bonsai with delicate scissors. 

Jerry strolled over, poured himself a cup of coffee, and with a mischievous grin, remarked, “Ladies, you put me to shame, still braving the cold out here.” 

Grace raised a hand and playfully swatted him on the back, admonishing, “You rascal, you still remember to come back?” 

“The boy came to see you, and you’re hitting him already! Claire, ever the protective figure, pulled ferry to her side. “He’s been away too long, he needs some pampering.” 

Jerry lightly pinched her shoulder. “See, that’s why you’re my favorite, Claire, Mrs. Hammer here just loves to pick on me.” 

His jest elicited peals of laughter from both Grace and Claire. 

Jerry beckoned me over with a gesture, and as I approached, he introduced me. “This is a new friend I made in Jacquar, Hope Royston.” 

Grace quickly chimed in, “My, what a beautiful, refined young lady, Jerry tells me you’re a master in custom tailoring? Quite the talent, I hear.” 

I greeted them with a smile, “Mrs. Hammer, Mrs. Harris.” 

Initially, I felt a bit nervous, but Grace and Claire’s warm and kind faces soon put me at ease. Smiling. I responded, “I recently took over the brand my parents founded. We specialize in custom tailoring and online sales. Mr. Hammer has been generous enough to offer his support as a friend.” 

Grace raised her eyebrows in surprise, then covered her mouth and laughed, looking at Jerry. “What did you do to her? You’ve been a troublemaker since you were little. This is the first time I’ve heard someone call you kind! 

I was momentarily stunned, struggling to suppress a smile. 

Indeed, I was relying on Jerry to introduce me to business opportunities, so a bit of flattery seemed prudent. 

“Nothing escapes your sharp eyes,” Jerry replied nonchalantly. “She needs my help with something.” 

Grace then turned her attention to me. “If you need something from him, why not see what this old lady can do for you as well… 

“Grace! Please don’t meddle. Just take her to your wardrobe so she can see your style preferences, Jerry interjected, urging her on. 

Despite her sharp words, Grace was indulgent. “Alright, alright, I’ll heed your advice.” 

Grace led me upstairs to an opulent living room with a large wardrobe. Most of the garments in the wardrobe reflected Grace’s current ensemble. 

I smiled and asked, “Mrs. Hammer, would you like to maintain your usual style for this custom outfit, or 

or are you 

open to trying something different?” 

“Ill leave it to you,” Grace said without hesitation, her face radiating kindness. “You young folks surely have a better grasp on fashion than an old lady like me. You design it, and I’ll wear it 

Although Grace wasn’t particular, I knew I couldn’t take a perfunctory approach. Back in the backyard, I subtly inquired more about Grace’s tastes and preferences. Grace lacked the arrogance often associated with affluence; she was forthright and remarkably approachable. Speaking with her felt natural and comfortable. 

After some conversation, I took a soft tape measure from my bag to take Grace’s measurements, Jerry, always the facilitator, chimed in, “Ms. Royston, why don’t you measure Mrs. Harris as well?” 

I nodded, “Sure thing. 

Chapter 150 Of Course I Think About Her 

The more, the merrier, I thought–eager to expand my clientele. 

Claire waved her hand dismissively, “Oh, that’s not necessary… 

But Jerry, ever the charmer, coaxed, “Claire, if you refuse, it’ll look like I’m playing favorites.” 

“Alright,” Claire relented with a smile. 

Just as I finished taking measurements, the butler arrived to c 

call us for dinner. However, at that moment, ferry received an urgent phone call and had to leave immediately. Before hurrying off, he handed me a room card. 

Sensing it was an appropriate time to depart as well, I said, “Looks like my work here is done. Il leave with you.” 

“Hope,” Grace called out warmly, her voice laced with genuine hospitality. “Don’t mind him; stay and have dinner a driver to take you to the hotel. 

with us. After dinner, I can arrange for 

Jerry smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t be fooled by my grandma’s kindness; she rarely invites guests to stay for dinner. Humor her, will you? 

I had no choice but to agree, charmed by the family’s warmth. 

The dining table was laid with a feast of sumptuous dishes, some prepared with the elderly in mind–easy to digest while others featured hearty beef, Lamb, and tantalizing seafood. 

Grace sat down first and beckoned towards me. “Hope, don’t be shy. Make yourself at home and eat more.” 

“Alright.” I smiled obediently. 

Perhaps it was my yearning for familial affection, but I always found myself being particularly well–behaved in front of kind–hearted elders. 

As we were finishing our meal, the servant brought out individual servings of dessert, Without thinking much, I took a bite, only to realize something was off. I quickly grabbed two napkins and discreetly spat it out. 

Claire witnessed my predicament. Unlike Grace, who was naturally approachable, Claire possessed a gentle yet somewhat reserved demeanor, making her a tad distant with strangers. 

Her eyes flickered with curiosity. “Ms. Royston, do you not like yams?” 

I smiled awkwardly and explained, “Not really. I’m actually a bit allergic to yams.” 

Claire’s hand, poised with the spoon, tightened. “Allergic since childhood?”