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"He changed the name?" Max frowned at the signboard. It had a picture of a smiling little girl holding a fruit basket. The girl looked like a younger version of Sharon.

"I didn't know he did." Sharon's voice shook slightly but she quickly turned away when he looked in her direction.

He smiled when they drove past the tall wrought-iron gates of the ranch. Max noticed more workers. The old man must have hired landscapers or something; the greenery looked beyond awesome—perfect hedges and flowerbeds. And the golf course. Whew! He whistled. The perfectly mowed landscape and the stretch of green as far as his eyes could see was any golfer's dream.

"Are you seeing this?" Max asked Sharon.

"I am..." Her voice trailed off. It was obvious she was also blown away. Max's fingers twitched again. He could only imagine all the masterpieces this place would inspire.

Max killed the engine in front of the main two-story ranch house. He stretched as they stepped out of the vehicle. The house looked even more beautiful than the last time he visited. Its white paint shone against the mid-afternoon sun and the two huge mahogany double doors appeared polished.

"Your uncle went all out. I'm crazy impressed," Max muttered as they walked forward. 

The doors opened and Uncle Olu strolled out with a wide grin on his face.

Sharon's uncle was an average height, sixty-five-year-old man. He was an intellectual with a healthy mix of a jolly personality and mischief. Though Sharon had once told him her uncle wasn't always a carefree person, Max found it impossible to see the man in another light.

He was wearing a pair of khaki trousers, a white polo shirt, and black palm slippers. The broad grin he wore caused his eyes to crinkle at the sides, and Max couldn't help returning his smile.

Uncle Olu's head was totally bald but his gray beard was properly trimmed, unlike the last time he saw him. Max always joked about how he looked like a jolly old black Santa.

"Welcome," uncle Olu said in his merry-sounding accented English. "Come over here both of you." The man spread his arms as he gestured for them to come forward. Sharon rushed to him with a genuine smile on her face, Max followed suit. The man meshed them in a group hug.

"I'm so happy to see you both."

"Same here, uncle. Same here..." Sharon said in a shaky voice.

"Max, I saw you on TV the other day and I told my workers that that's my son-in-law." Uncle Olu's voice rang with pride as he released them and led them towards the house. He instructed a gangly teenage boy to get their luggage and place it in their room.

"Your artworks are splendid. I wish I can paint like you. I loved your storm-themed collection—a bit dark—but I loved it all the same. I will make more selections on your website." Uncle Olu said proudly as he pushed the huge door open.

"Uncle, you really outdid yourself. You transformed the place!" Sharon gushed. Max watched her stare at the massive chandelier above them, loving the way her eyes lit up and the corners of her lips curve in a small smile. He blinked, snapping out of it.

The living area was wide with lovely white panel windows, large decorative vases at corners, and a modern-style gray curtain that stood out against the white walls. The cushions were also gray with white claw feet and the center table looked like iron and glass were melted to create the wonder.

When Max looked at the opposite wall, he couldn't stop his grin.

"You were the one who bought that piece?" It was a painting of him and Sharon. They were walking with their hands clasped and their backs were what was depicted in the colourful piece. None but he and Sharon knew it was them in the painting.

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