Chapter 7 This Kid Seems to Have Some Talent
Ray and James helped dismantle the old bed frame for the workers to carry away.
Mary grabbed a broom to sweep up the dust in the room, and soon the workers were hauling the new bed through the door.
When they saw the brand-new bed frame, the entire family froze.
Having once been part of high society, they could tell at a glance that this was black walnut wood with hand-carved detailing, definitely not cheap.
Next came the mattress, and when they saw the brand label, everyone was completely stunned.
This brand used natural materials with micro air-cell technology, was endorsed by European royalty, and cost a staggering $400,000.
Having such a high-end, expensive bed in their cramped little house was like installing a solid gold chair in a housing project.
The workers quickly assembled the new bed, then went back downstairs to bring up a matching desk set, also made of black walnut with hand-carved details on the sides.
Such a small desk would easily cost $30,000.
Beyond the furniture, the soft goods were equally important.
The matching pillows, comforter, and bedding set were all brand new—each item crucial to whether Sophia could get a good night's sleep.
"Where do I sign?" After everything was delivered, Sophia clicked open her pen and signed the worker's clipboard, then said, "Thanks for all your hard work."
What had seemed like a simple mattress replacement turned into Sophia dropping nearly $500,000 without batting an eye.
Mary stared at her youngest daughter in disbelief. Sure, Sophia had lived a luxurious lifestyle with the Smith family, but even after leaving them, she still had the financial means to spend this extravagantly?
"Sophia, this..." Mary began carefully, her expression troubled. "There are perfectly good budget mattress brands out there. You don't need to spend this much money just to get some sleep, do you?"
Sophia fell silent for half a second, as if contemplating whether $500,000 was really that much money.
Then she smiled slightly. "I have trouble sleeping. I'm pretty particular about my bed."
At that, Mary choked on her words, and everyone else swallowed the pile of questions stuck in their throats.
...
With a week and a half left before school started, Lucas needed to rush through his summer homework.
Sophia went to Lucas's room to help tutor him.
Lucas sat in his chair, scribbling furiously while Sophia occupied one side of the desk, sitting on the bed.
"Sophia." Lucas carefully poked the girl beside him, who was working on an economics paper. "Can I ask you about a math problem?"
"Of course." Sophia closed her tablet and set it aside, leaning over to look at the question.
What surprised Sophia was that she'd expected Lucas's handwriting to be wobbly chicken scratch, but instead found his print writing neat and beautiful, nothing like what you'd expect from a nine-year-old boy.
Sophia couldn't help but raise her eyebrows, a flash of approval in her eyes. "Do you practice penmanship?"
Lucas nodded. "Yeah, I joined the school's calligraphy club in first grade. I practice writing worksheets and calligraphy on weekends."
For someone with Lucas's energetic personality to sit still and practice writing, and to get this good at it, was genuinely surprising to Sophia.
Flipping through several pages of his workbook, she noted that, starting in first grade and practicing for only two years, writing this well was quite an achievement.
She asked casually, "Do you only practice print?"
"No, last year my teacher said my print was really good and told me to learn cursive."
Lucas glanced back at Sophia.
She seemed really curious about his handwriting.
"Sophia, I have some calligraphy pieces I did in club stored in a cardboard box under the bed."
Hearing this, Sophia put down the workbook and went to pull the cardboard box from under the bed.
It was full of practice sheets.
Both print and cursive, varying in quality, apparently, he'd been saving all his practice work since he started learning. But most of it was quite good, showing rapid improvement.
This kid seemed to have some talent.
"Lucas, why did you decide to learn calligraphy?" Sophia asked absently.
Lucas stopped writing and thought carefully. "People with beautiful handwriting just look really capable, and Dad said practicing writing develops focus and self-control. People with those two qualities are more likely to succeed at whatever they do."
Sophia smirked, finding that reasoning fairly sound. "So do you enjoy calligraphy?"
"I love it!" Lucas's eyes sparkled with light, the pure, innocent excitement of a child with limitless dreams for the future.
He looked at Sophia with pride and satisfaction. "Sophia, don't let the fact that I've only been learning for two years fool you. I represented our school in a calligraphy competition and won first place!"
"That's impressive."
Sophia offered what sounded like praise, putting the stack of papers back in the cardboard box. She lifted the box with one hand and started walking toward the door. "Come with me."
Lucas was confused for a moment, then dropped his pen and hurriedly followed.
He watched Sophia grab a lighter from the living room, then head out the door, dragging his box of practice sheets downstairs.
A bad feeling crept over him as he shuffled quickly to keep up, nearly losing his slippers in his haste.
"Sophia, where are you taking my practice papers?"
Sophia didn't answer his question, just kept dragging the cardboard box toward the downstairs garden.
The uneasy feeling grew stronger, and Lucas was nearly in tears. He had a sinking suspicion that Sophia was about to burn all his drafts.
Reality told Lucas that his instincts were sometimes spot-on.
Sophia dumped the box into the large metal barrel in the corner of the garden, casually grabbed a stack of papers, lit them with the lighter, and tossed them in.