Perhaps he was lonely; with a lot on his plate he had barely noticed the cottage had been purchased, let alone who it's new resident could be. The SOLD sign caused great excitement, and while it was sturdy in the ground, his imagination galloped wildly around it. What other new money would join him in West Egg? Normally he paid little interest in business outside his own, but this was so close, almost in his grasp. Lost in his thoughts, he began composing an addition to his fantasy; a man like himself, looking for his long lost-
"Meyer Wolfsheim, sir." The butler announced, and he looked up, nodding at the older man. Picking up the line, he walked away from the window.
"Good day, ol' sport."
The buggy came to a halt most abruptly, and she fell forward in her seat with a soft laugh, catching herself on the armrest.
"My most terrible apology, miss!" The driver, a middle aged fellow exclaimed.
"Oh, don't fret! I'm still in one piece." She sang out. "As is your jalopy, sir." She pushed a stray hair from her face, and looked out to the lawn. It was beautiful. Large trees enveloped the small cottage, and wildflowers sprouted out without care.
"I must say, this is the real McCoy, miss. Long Island is something special. Have you ever been here before?"
"If only…" she whispered, opening the buggy's door.
"Let me help you, miss." The gentleman offered, quickly rushing about to her side of the car.
"Baloney! I'm quite able, sir. But thank you." She offered a grin, almost jumping to the dirt ground. She brushed off her dress with grace, and spun around. Home sweet home.
"You're quite the cat, miss! Your husband must be very lucky." he jittered, setting her luggage next to her.
"Oh, me?" She looked up quickly, and he nodded. Shaking her head quickly, she continued, " I think you're mistaken, sir. I'm not wed, and I'm traveling alone. This is where I'll be residing, but it's only for the summer." He looked stunned to say the least. Most women, especially of her stature, had been seen as arm candy to the men of New York.
"My apologies...yet again, I might add." He chuckled warmly, retreating to the car. "Enjoy your stay in West Egg!"
"Thank you again." She waved lightly as he drove off down the dirt road.
The wind tugged at her hair with ease, freeing loose strands to frame her face. The remainder of her brown locks were captured in a long, loose ponytail. Her soft pink lips were natural and her smile sparked enchantment, and her cheeks were warm in the sun. The glow of her green eyes could be matched with the complexity of fireworks on a summer night, entrancing to say the least, and were embellished with black mascara. Each movement she made was purposeful and well constructed, like a piece of art, and her green dress flowed loosely around her legs. She was quite the dame, able to compel heartless fiends, gamblers, and buyers alike. She just didn't know it yet.
In her excitement she sprang to the door, and bashfully took in her surroundings once again. Noticing her home was the most humble in West Egg, she decided to make the most of it. "Home at last." she breathed out quietly. She took a letter out of her purse, scripted with the words 'Do not open until you find home'.
It was her father's handwriting. He had passed away the year prior, and she didn't have the courage to open it until now.
I am with you every step you take. I am for you. You're going to do great things, and I couldn't have asked for a better daughter. Stay true, Nicole Carraway.
In the distance he saw movement; a jalopy driving off, luggage being tugged along, a woman holding something to her chest.
Thank you for taking the time to read this! As my first Gatsby fic, let me know what you think. The book was so eloquent, and the movie was brilliant; I hope I can do it justice. Let me know what you think, and I can only take credit for Nicole. Much love, -Crimsonsky132