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“Her favorite is walnut brown. One year for her birthday, I bought her a pencil in that color. It’s her favorite,” Violet explained.
“Do you want to watch cartoons and find the mistakes?” he asked, not knowing what else to do with her. The only thing they had in common was Agatha, and she was missing.
“Sure, until Buzz comes. Since Mom and Dad are at the hospital still, I am going to her house for the night.” She climbed off the stool.
It was a little after 5 p.m. when a redhead came in the door without knocking. Violet was off the couch and ran to her sister, yelling her name. After a quick hug, the redhead looked him over and asked, “Where’s Agatha?”
“I don’t know. I found Violet on the step at 3 p.m., and we haven’t heard from Agatha,” he said.
“I’m Bea. Agatha doesn’t leave the house much unless she’s working, but she wouldn’t work during the day. She’s a vampire, isn’t she, Violet?”
“She is not. She goes out in the sun!” the girl argued with a giggle. It seemed like an ongoing joke.
“Chris Lowell,” he put out his hand, which she ignored.
“I know who you are. Don’t hurt her.” Her brown eyes held his.
“I won’t,” He stated.
“Agatha puts on this air that nothing touches her, and not much does. But when she gets hurt, it takes her a long time to recover. Sometimes she doesn’t. She isn’t some plaything,” Bea warned. She was no taller than her sister, but she was willing to stand up to him for her.
“She’s not,” he agreed.
With her dark eyes still on him, she pulled out her phone and pushed some buttons. Her eyes squinted as it rolled to voicemail, and Bea dialed anther number.
“Luce, have you talked to Ag today?” She turned her back on him as she spoke. “No, she wasn’t here when Violet came home. I’m picking up Violet.”
As she talked, she walked out the door, leaving him to wonder if any of her sisters knew where she was.
Without knowing what else to do, he went across the street to see what the crew had finished since he had spent the afternoon with Violet. The walls were sheetrocked and were now ready for paint, and the tile in the kitchen and bathrooms was done. All the bathrooms and kitchen were in working order. The house wasn’t going to be a masterpiece of original workmanship because he had destroyed most of that, but his contractor had told him that modern design in old houses was all the rage, so they had changed direction and started over. It would still be a nice house, just different than he had originally dreamed.
Deciding it was safe for him to pick up garbage around the house, he filled a bag of bottles and cans from beverages and odds and ends that could be thrown out. He knew the house was still half done, but in a few more weeks, he either had to live in it or sell it. When he began the project, he had planned to sell it and move on to another project, but now he knew there would be no other project. And he didn’t want to live there either. He was happier across the street with Agatha.
Her prickly side rarely came out anymore, and when it did, it was because she was trying to protect herself from something. Earlier in the week, she yelled at him all day on Monday before he left for work, but when he came home, she was in a better mood.
Before he knew it, an hour had passed, so he went and checked to see if her car was back. Grinning, he saw it was sitting right where it always did in the yard. Why she parked on the grass, he didn’t know. Shutting off lights and locking the door, he headed across the street. On the porch there was a box sitting by the door. Glancing at it, he saw his Turkish blue shirt on top. He tried to open the door but found that it was locked.
Agatha had been gone all day, and now she had kicked him out of her house. No explanation, nothing. He had no idea what he had done. Should he have gone with her to the hospital that morning? It had been a family event, and she hadn’t invited him. He was beginning to believe he needed to start inviting himself.
Chris decided he needed an explanation and began pounding on the door. He yelled her name, knowing she was in there and that she could hear him.
She opened the door a crack and looked out it. “Stop being so loud, Chris.”
“What is this?” He pointed to the box.
“Your stuff. We’re done,” she stated calmly.
“Why? Where were you today?” he demanded.
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“What? I was the one who sat with the saddest nine-year-old in the state for two hours, who kept asking if you were ever coming back!” He hoped she would understand how sad Violet had been. Though he was sure she knew, he wanted her to feel guilty about it.
She didn’t open the door any wider. “I just can’t do this right now.”
“What did I do?”
“Nothing, Chris, it’s me. This was never going anywhere. It needs to be over now.”
