Sophie's dark eyes are now trying to find Great's look, asking for some sort of support.
But Greta keeps quiet, with her back facing the two women, looking carelessly on the window, doing her best not to interfere.
Having doubts herself it's hard to fully support Sophie but even harder not to because she knows that, if the two young souls are to find each other, there is no better marriage to fit both of them.
And she has been controlling Hattie's life and future too much in the past years. She will not do it now. Not today. And definitely not when it comes about Ross Theron, the dearest grandson of Sophie whom she knows just as much as she knows Hattie.
He can be the loveliest husband or the most possessive one, there was no middle way with him.
Everything he does is filled with passion. Holding his cigar is never just holding a cigar, gulping in one strike the glass of whiskey is never just that.
His laughter (and he does laugh most of the time) is always loud, with a full mouth and heart as if he has never been sad one bit in his whole life.
That's how Ross is, full of life, full of passion, of joy, the best grandson one can wish for, and the wisest son. But will he make the best husband for Hattie as well?
"That's something we'll have to find out", Greta whispers for herself and turns around in a hasty spin towards the two dearest friends, her large, long velvety dress causing a fizzle in the silence of the room.
"I trust Ross," Greta says in a confident voice. Two pairs of eyes are shining towards her and silence becomes a bit heavy. "Yes, I do. And the both of you will have my blessing."
Sophie's eyes are frozen in surprise hearing her friend's words while Hattie stops her words and her rosy lips shiver in an attempt to protest.
But words stuck on her tongue remembering Greta's love and protection and she knows she'll never wish her any harm and the blessings she has just given are one more reason for her to say yes.
Imagine that! The young boy with blue crying eyes, broken and suffering for the too early passing away of his mother and who has imprinted in her heart in that dreadful night when their eyes have met, is now about to become her husband.
"And I also trust Sophie, my lifelong best friend," Greta continues and walks closer to the table where Sophie and Hattie are sitting, looking down at them with intense eyes.
"I know how both of you hold a special place in her heart and there is no way what's so ever she is either selfish in this or wrong. But I have one condition though," she says.
"Anything!" Sophie agrees without the slightest hesitation.
"Before we or they take any decision, they must meet. We owe them that much, Sophie."
"Of course, as soon as possible, I promise! And no words will be there to say about marriage before these two young ones meet properly, speak, get to know each other."
"Wow, hold your horses, ladies," Hattie says in her so distinct way of being cold and rational just like an old woman with lots of life experience behind her. "I didn't agree to this yet. What are you talking about? I'm no match for him. And if I'm ever to get married, I want to be an equal of my husband, plain and simple!" she speaks loud and confident.
At least for the very few first seconds because anxiety and shivers take control over her, betrayed by her shaky exhale that has followed her word.
And that triggers only a wide smile on Sophie's lips seeing her young dearest overwhelmed with emotions which she hopes are butterflies. You know, the ones that fill your chest and stumble your breathing when love nests in one's heart. They surely look like that.
"I've heard things about Mr. Theron and... not all of them are very nice. I know he's a handsome man., I'll give you that! Hell, there had never been a woman I didn't hear talking and whispering about him. They all talk about him, they all want him, they all dream about him. But my husband's name will never be on the lips of all other women around," Hattie continues and her anxiety is replaced with a determination to freeze even the depth of hell.
And besides the determination there are also conflicting thoughts that can easily be read in her face while she stands up and starts pacing around the room, clasping her hands together and fingers knitting together.
But she immediately stops and straightens her back, staring intently at the other two women witnessing her struggles. Lord, the volume of emotions she was going through, jumping from anxiety to cold blood and determination and falling back to shivers and fears is gradually transforming her into the best choice of a wife for Ross.
"No other woman!" she repeats pitching each word, shifting her eyes between the two ladies.
That is Hattie they all know, passionate, determined, taking nothing lightly in her life and hell possessive when it comes to what is hers, or... will be hers, for that matter.
Because she knows or she doesn't know yet, Ross will be hers and she can't be anything but serious about it, looking angry and already jealous in the sweetest way Sophie ever has expected.
"He will be crazy about her," Sophie whispers just for herself and her heart swells in joy seeing how her plan is unfolding.
"And if it doesn't work, it just doesn't work! Nobody will keep me still and nobody will stand in my way," Hattie continues, her green eyes shining like gems in determination.
Sophie has always admired the young lady for the strange mix of kindness and wildness. 'I will never know how she is doing that,' she thinks for herself, loving her to the level of bursting with happiness.
But Hattie has not been doing it. She's born with it, and she's born for Ross, perfectly tailored to be his wife.
"Truth be told... I'll have a home, I'll have stability and I'll have you, Mrs. Sophie, always around me. What more can I ask for?" Hattie continues, speaking rather to herself, walking up and down around the kitchen.
She's such a beautiful sight in the eyes of Sophie, the tumult of questions Hattie is struggling with making her look so innocent and vulnerable.
Sophie jumps from her seat and swamps upon the young lady, curling her arms around Hattie's shoulder and holding her tight as a mother would.
"You are born for each other," she says giggling with joy.
Meanwhile, Greta keeps herself distant from the two women, admiring their affectionate moment, her heart swelling seeing two of her dearest and closest people but holding reserved in what is going to be Hattie's future for the rest of her life.
She can't deny that a union between the dearest people in Sophie's life will be ideal but the insecurity in her heart and the overprotective love she has for Hattie are shaping a battle in her mind, whether it has been right to agree so easily or to fight some more in the hope that Sophie will change her mind.
She knows Ross since his childhood and, oh Lord, she can see him in Hattie right now, possessive and determined. 'You are too much alike. You are both possessive and stubborn and ...' she is mentally saying to herself and sighs, her heart heavy with the responsibility for Hattie's fate.
"I didn't agree yet, Ms. Sophie," Hattie says a few seconds later, staring at Sophie and gauging her eyes when the excitement of Sophie has reached the sky.
Her face is changing colors, starting from snow white and going to pink and rose red, thinking that actually now there is no going back.
She's going to meet soon the young man with blue eyes which have been imprinted in her thoughts right from that night when they have met, the night when she has realized that no other eyes will bring her again the warmth she has felt then.
She brushes aside some of her hair strands with the back of her left hand (God, she was left-handed just like Ross ... even in this they are alike) as she suddenly feels a heart burning her cheeks and sweat forms at her temples.
A soft palm lays gently on her back and turning around as if waking up from the deepest sleep, she meets Sophie's round, soft eyes, and her heart instantly melts.
She has been looking up to her since forever, all wrapped in that glorious, unmatched elegance and kindness. And Margret, her daughter was nothing less.
As a child, she used to act like them, sometimes coming back home after the daily reading or piano classes, pretending to be one of them, strolling around the house in the same walk, same elegance and hands move, same laughter.
After poor Margret passed away, taken down by that awful illness which brought her so much suffering, she kept her regular visits in the house of Sophie who always felt that there was a good part left in Hattie from her sweet daughter.
These were the only times when one could see her smiling again.
And her train of thoughts is suddenly stopped by some stormy blue-sky eyes and a hardened face of young Ross who has come home for a short while hearing about his mother's illness.
That night has been a memory impossible to forget, his eyes suddenly lifting, as if knowing there is someone hidden behind the heavy velvet curtains and locking with hers for a second before entering his mother's room, a second which felt like an eternity.
That was the only time when Hattie saw the famous Ross. She was fourteen years old at that time and all that sorrow in Sophie's home was making her relive the pain of losing her parents.
Losing Margret was hurting just the same. Ross was already twenty-six but one could see nothing from that youth in him.
His back was leaned in front, hands hanging along these sides of his body, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms crossed with visible veins as his fists were strongly squeezed, shoulder camped tightly in front and he still looked strong but kneeled with pain.
That two-seconds glare he gave Hattie made her blood freeze and boil at the same time and almost skipped a breath knowing so well the pain of losing someone dear, the same pain that now was nesting in the eyes of Ross, hidden under his black thick eyebrows forming a firm straight line.
Her eyes followed him as he disappeared behind the door of his mother's room.
He didn't stay that day. In that night he ran away and never came back.
She remembered Sophie having whispered talks with her son-in-law being all so worried that something might have happened to Ross. Nobody knew where he was.
She was asking Elliot every day to go and find his son. Everybody knew Margret wouldn't live for long. Her time was coming closer and truth be told, it would have been such a relief as her suffering couldn't be eased even with the strongest shots of morphine.
But Elliot never left to find him. He knew Ross could not stand seeing with his own eyes how life was slowly draining out of his mother.
While everybody was waiting for Margret's unfortunate end and some others were struggling to find out where Ross was, Hattie used to stay long hours in Margret's room, reading to her, in a low voice and trying her best to take her mind away from suffering and pain, traveling over mountains and rivers of the stories she would read.
But from time to time Margret would stop the story whispering her son's name.
"Hattie ..." she once mumbled and the young girl stood up from the chair and leaned her ear close to Margret's lips.
"Ross ... you will take care of Ross, won't you?" Margret would ask her, locking her tired eyes with hers.
Every time she was hearing Margret saying that, Hattie was sure that Margret believed it was Sophie she would speak to and not her.
Poor Margret, towards the end it became a struggle for her to breathe, and even harder to talk, less to say about knowing whom she was talking to.
"Of course I will. I promise," Hattie used to answer each time.
What good would have been to break Margret's heart and answer otherwise?
Now, the same round, warm eyes of Margret are staring at her from Sophie's kind face, having the same expectation shining in them, making it hard for Hattie to refuse such a heartfelt plea.
She smiles sweetly and lays one palm on Sophie's cheek, holding it warmly. That smile of hers speaks volumes.
"How can I refuse you? How can I disappoint you?" she finally replies to Sophie. "But, you promise we'll first meet."
She is sure Ross won't remember those two seconds of eight years ago. And even if he does, it surely means nothing to him.
"Thank you, Hattie," Sophie says at the peak of her joy.
"But you should know I'll never accept anything less but a good marriage," the young lady warns Sophie in a joke.
"Hattie, we'll always be together. I'll always stand by you. And don't worry about Ross, I'll teach you everything you need to know to make him lose his mind over you," Sophie replies and winks happily.
"Sophie! That really sounds like a hardcore conspiracy against you grandson" Greta finally speaks for the first time since she has given her blessing.
"He's my grandson. I have to do the best I can for him. And if he doesn't see with his own wide-opened eyes what is best for him, well then you're very right that I'll have the strongest conspiracy to him see what's best for him."
It was been decided that day for the two of them to meet as soon as possible and Greta knew that for Sophie, as soon as possible can very easily be the next day.