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“HEY, SLOW DOWN MYRTLE!” Abigail shouted as the old woman scurried around another prickly shrub, abruptly changed direction, moved through the spaces between the trees and splashed through a trickling creek. The ground was soggy and muddy from the last rain and Abigail had to be careful where she stomped her feet. It wouldn’t do to sink her new shoes into the muck or to fall on her butt in a puddle of mud. She hadn’t planned on this wild hike through the wilderness and hadn’t dressed appropriately. That Myrtle. The old woman had known where they were going, what the terrain would be, and she’d worn rubber boots. Not so Abigail. Abigail was dressed for town and had her good clothes on. “Where are you going, Myrtle?”
“I think I know where my grandniece is. She goes to a special place a lot to think or when one of her intuitions, dreams or trances, or whatever she calls them, have upset her. Just follow me. I know the way and it isn’t far.” Myrtle dodged a low hanging branch and it almost slapped Abigail in the face. Luckily she ducked just in time, barely. A tiny branch fluttered across and scratched her face and when she reached up her fingers came back with a streak of blood.
“Myrtle, slow down!”
“You know,” Myrtle suddenly declared as if the thought had only come to her, “I’m really thinking about going on a world cruise this summer. Leave in July and get back whenever. Maybe I’ll be gone for months. Sort of like a birthday present from myself to myself.”
For Pete’s sake, Abigail thought, but didn’t say out loud. The old woman had to be closing in or even past ninety years old. Did ninety year olds really traipse around the globe like vagabond teenagers? Didn’t they have to stay close to their doctors and stuff? “You’re kidding, aren’t you? Remember what happened the last time you went on a cruise...a friend of yours ended up dead.”
“Yeah, I remember. But that was a real fluke. It wasn’t the cruise that did poor old Tina in, but a land grabbing couple of murderers. I don’t expect that to happen again, not in my lifetime. As far as I know no one’s out to murder me or any of my friends–right now anyway,” she mumbled the last three words though Abigail heard them.
Abigail figured she’d play along. Myrtle did like to daydream about the great adventures she was going to go on. It didn’t mean she would actually do them; though she did like to travel and traveled more than any old person Abigail had ever known. “Where are you thinking of going on this cruise?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I’m still doing research. One of those senior cruises so I don’t feel so out of place. Someplace warm, I think. Tropical islands with beautiful blue seas around and friendly natives. Lots of fruity drinks with those tiny umbrellas in them. Oh, and the cruise ship will have to have tons of good food and goodies on it, too. That’s a given.” The old lady grinned over her shoulder at her. “You know me, I like the water and the sun. The dessert buffet.”
“That you do. Let me know when you decide on your itinerary and exactly where you’re going. So I can put up a map on my wall and stick it full of pins to follow your bread crumbs.”
“Ha, ha. I will. Maybe I could even talk you into going with me, huh? Glinda, too. A women’s cruise vacation. I’ll pay for it.”
Myrtle was serious so Abigail didn’t mock her. “I don’t think Frank would think me going on a cruise for a couple of months or more was a good idea. Though Laura’s away at college, we still have Nick at home. And Frank would miss me. I’d miss him.”
“Ah, Frank can come with us. Nick, too. I’ll pay for all of you. Nick will be out of school by June and we could go then and be back in time for him to catch the fall semester. I know it’ll be a hunk of money, but hey, I can’t take it with me so I’m going to spend it. Let me spend it on you guys.”
No way. Abigail didn’t like big boats on big oceans. They could sink and then they’d drown or sharks would eat all of them. No, no, no. But flabbergasted at the sheer generosity of the offer, Abigail could only say, “Uh, let me think about it.”
“You do that.”
Abigail kept muttering beneath her breath but continued trailing Myrtle through the wet woods. At least the rain had stopped, the fog had lifted and the sun had come out to warm the world around them. Early spring could be so fickle in Spookie, and this morning it was chilly, so Abigail was glad she’d worn a jacket. Myrtle, on the other hand, was wearing her usual colorful collection of layered dresses and a furry coat which would have been more suitable for the deep freeze of the Arctic. It was like following a hobbling and strange looking bear. The comical image made Abigail smile.
They’d been on their way to visit Glinda, their local psychic and Myrtle’s grandniece, at Glinda’s house, but no one had been home when they rang the bell. Of course Myrtle had known where the spare key was kept, beneath the ceramic frog in the rock garden surrounding the porch, the same place her late sister Evelyn had always kept it, and she had merely let them in. Before Abigail could protest intruding on Glinda’s privacy, Myrtle had blurted out, “Oh, I do this all the time. Glinda doesn’t mind. Besides, most days she already knows I’m coming and isn’t surprised. My home is your home, Aunt Myrtle, she always tells me. Seeing as it did once belong to your sister. Visit anytime you want. So I do.”
But Glinda hadn’t been in the house, there was only the menagerie of animals, mostly cats, she’d been collecting. Evelyn’s ghost must be very happy. The felines darted away to hide like frightened children or meowed at them from dark corners.
“That girl,” Myrtle complained, finding and picking up a blue cell phone from the kitchen table. “It’d be easier to track her down if she’d just remember to take her cell phone along with her. She’s always leaving it somewhere. Once I found it in the freezer. No joke.” The old woman took the phone and dumped it into her jacket’s pocket. “When we find her I’ll give it to her.”
“Then we’re going to keep looking for her?”
“Of course,” Myrtle replied, “I’ve had this feeling all morning I had to speak to her. It’s important.”
“Oh, okay. Lead on.”
Then Glinda’s main cat, the gray one called Amadeus, was at the house’s entrance in front of them. It gave them one of its weird looks and dashed out the open door. “We’ll follow that critter. I’m sure he’ll lead us right to Glinda.”
“I thought you said you knew where your niece was?”
“Well, I have a good idea, but I’m sure the cat will find her first and take us right to her. It has that power. Let’s go.”
They went out the door, closing it behind them, and looked for the cat. It was nowhere to be seen.
“Darn. He did that disappearing act on purpose to taunt me. That cat hates me,” Myrtle had grumbled as they’d walked behind the house. “Though I am so nice to him, bring him treats and all. He’s a peculiar cat.”
“You still believe he’s a magic cat?” Abigail had queried, hiding her amusement. She glanced over her shoulder at Evelyn’s old house as they left it behind. It looked good, Myrtle had confided to her a while back, better than it had in decades. Glinda had had it painted a cheery yellow and had new shutters, a pretty light jade color, put around the windows. Wooden boxes full of bright flowers sat beneath the windows. She’d cleared out and cleaned up the piles of clutter in the yard which had been scattered around and had planted wild flowers everywhere. There was an antique glider swing for three, topped off with soft cushions, under the oak tree.
The yard’s grass was always kept cut and the bushes shaped and trimmed. It was a lovely homestead now and its unique beauty rivaled the best houses in Spookie. Abigail had helped Glinda decorate the inside and, even she had to admit, it was now a beautiful home. Glinda loved it as much as Evelyn once had and it showed. Abigail was fairly sure Myrtle had contributed monetary funds to accomplish the makeover because, according to Myrtle, she spent as much time at Glinda’s place as she did her at her own, and she had wanted to help her young niece because, she’d asserted, being a psychic wasn’t all that profitable. Then again she and Glinda had formed a tight bond which was touching to behold. The old recluse was becoming more social with every year and that was what was most amazing to Abigail. Myrtle having a young relative to care for had changed the old woman. Abigail reckoned the next step was Myrtle eventually moving in with the girl, which wouldn’t be a bad thing. Myrtle’s eyesight and hearing were both failing, though Myrtle would never admit it. Ninety-something could be a brutal age for anyone. There were times, though, like now, Abigail couldn’t believe how spry her old friend still was. For the time being anyway.
A swallow flew above them not inches above their heads, dipping and sailing like a tiny ship on the air. Abigail shaded her eyes with her hand and watched the bird speed away into the azure sky. Three others joined it and called to each other like old friends.
Glinda had been living in Evelyn’s house for over two years and the psychic had settled easily into it and the rhythm of the town and its quirky people, fitting right in. She had many friends and could often be found at Claudia’s Tattered Corners book store or Stella’s Café conversing or visiting with any number of the townspeople over breakfast or lunch. Sometimes she gave readings at both places. Stella and Claudia welcomed them. It brought in more business. People were curious about Glinda, her visons, her crystals and tarot cards, and loved to crowd around to watch and listen when she was reading someone’s fortune. Glinda had become somewhat famous in the area because so many of her predictions came true. These days she didn’t have problems getting bookings, yet she refused to raise her prices. Often she would give free readings if the person needed it but couldn’t afford it. “I know what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck. I never forget that. Some people need my help and I will not turn them away because of money. I don’t share my gift merely for the money. I share it to help people.”
The strange gray cat suddenly reappeared ahead of them, tail and whiskers twitching as it paused, stared back at them as if to say follow me and scampered off into the woods.
“Crazy cat.” Myrtle chortled. “Okay, okay, slow down, you contrary fur critter, we’re coming.”
Abigail laughed then as the woods closed in around them. They’d been following the cat ever since, though it kept slinking in and out of their sight and they’d had to keep their eyes sharply peeled to not lose it.
“Uh, where precisely are we going?” Abigail repeated.
“We’re here.” Myrtle had arrived at an overgrown and apparently long forgotten graveyard. There were many such forgotten family cemeteries around Spookie. They were burial places hidden and lost in the town’s forests, dotted with crumbling tombstones with faded inscriptions and paths dense with weeds. Withered trees protectively hung their branches over the spot and a knee-high dilapidated fence encircled it. A small patch of sacred ground, there weren’t more than three dozen graves residing there. Abigail had never been to this particular cemetery, though, but sensed immediately the eerie ambience pervading it. She could almost feel the departed lurking behind the tombstones or floating below the ground’s dirt. Gentle shivers shimmied along her skin. Good thing the sun was shining and bright. The boneyard would have been too creepy if the day would have been overcast.
Evidently the cemetery wasn’t their destination. They skirted around the graveyard and when Abigail looked up a large concrete gazebo loomed before her. She’d never seen one like it. It was quite large and squatted on a hill overlooking the graveyard on one side and a steep drop to the creek on the other. As the cemetery it appeared to have been there a long time, was surrounded in overgrown shrubberies and weeds, but it was a solid edifice, octagonal, and perhaps twenty feet across and fifteen feet or so in height. There were five stone steps leading up and into it. Hard wooden benches encircled the gazebo’s inner circumference.
Strange, she thought, to have such an uncommon structure in the middle of the woods and next to an abandoned graveyard. Who would put a gazebo way out here? Well, someone did. Probably the original owner of the property.
Then she noticed who was sitting on the benches inside the gazebo. Glinda and Frank.
“Hey!” Myrtle chuckled, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “Hot dog, the gang’s all here.”
“Hi Glinda,” Abigail greeted the young woman, climbed the steps and gave her husband, Frank, a hello hug. “What’s up?”
“I’ve had an interesting vision...a visit, actually, from someone who needs my–our–help.”
“Oh,” Myrtle exclaimed. “Yippee, is it another adventure, another grand mystery, for us to solve?”
“We’ll find out.” Glinda’s hands gestured them to sit with her. “That’s why you are all here. I have questions to ask and things to learn. The person who contacted me has a favor to ask. And I’m going to need your help to grant that favor.”
Oh boy. Abigail caught the eager grin on Myrtle’s face. Not again. It’d been two lovely peaceful years without any complications, dangers or murders in Spookie and she didn’t want it to change. She liked their simple life without criminals or murders to muck it up. Then she noticed Glinda’s odd expression, the concern in her eyes, and knew there was already no turning back. The die had been cast. Here we go again.
“What’s the favor?” Myrtle pressed.
“I’ll tell you soon enough,” Glinda clarified. “Once everyone takes a seat.”
“Ha, if I would have known we’d all be here,” Myrtle piped up, “I would have brought a picnic lunch. Ooh, fried chicken and potato salad does sound tasty about now.”
After throwing Myrtle an amused grin, Abigail glanced at her husband. “Frank, what are you doing here? I thought you were working today with the police department?”
“I was. Then Glinda called me and asked me to come over. Said she had something to tell me and a request. I needed to get out of the stuffy office, not anything important going on today anyway, the office was dead, so I agreed. It was a nice day, she wanted to take a walk and show me something and here we are.” He smiled and spread his hands to include their surroundings. “She said you two would turn up sooner or later. And here you are.”
The year before her husband had accepted a consultant’s job with the sheriff’s department as a part-time detective. It had surprised Abigail because he’d been retired from the Chicago Homicide Department for as long as she’d known him and seemed happy with his new mystery writing career and their simple life at home with the kids. He had become quite the local celebrity with his best-selling mystery novels. At the time he’d taken the consulting job, though, he’d confessed he had become restless just writing about crimes and no longer actively being able to solve them in the real world. The mysteries they’d cracked with Myrtle the last couple years had reawakened his sleuthing instincts. So he had taken the offered job with Sheriff Mearl and seemed content with it. It got him out of the house more, he said, and kept his brain sharp for writing his mysteries.
“Yeah, about where we are,” Abigail sat down beside her husband, her eyes taking in what was around them, “what is this place? And why is there this lovely gazebo way out here in the middle of nowhere...and so close to a run-down weed-filled cemetery?”
Myrtle, who’d settled down on one of the gazebo’s steps instead of sitting on one of the benches, piped up, “This gazebo has been here forever. Since before my sister and I ever came to town. When she got married and bought this house, we discovered it one day while we were out traipsing around in these woods. We used to come out here and have picnics with our husbands and our children when we were younger. I was told that years ago, in the late nineteen hundreds or so, there were even town picnics and events out here for a time. Bands would play in the gazebo and the townspeople would dance and eat picnic lunches on blankets in the grass. But it’s been forsaken and forgotten now for ages. I showed this place to Glinda soon after she took possession of the house. I and my sister always enjoyed coming out here to escape the world and her house full of yakking, yapping critters.” Myrtle chuckled. “At least it was quiet.”
“I love it out here,” Glinda said. She grinned at Abigail. She was wearing one of her long flowing skirts and a ruby silk blouse under a heavy purple sweater. Glittery silver tennis shoes. No jewelry except some dangling silver earrings. Her green eyes flashed. “I come out here every chance I get. It relaxes me when my visions drive me a little nuts.”
“I know,” Myrtle remarked. “Like I told Abby, if I can’t find her at the house this is the first place I look.” She took Glinda’s cell phone from her pocket and handed it to the young woman. Glinda nodded her thanks.
“So, Niece,” Myrtle wanted to know. “What about this vision you’ve had?”
The young woman offered them an enigmatic curve of her lips. “It was a strange one as many of them are, with missing pieces. I’m not sure exactly what the visitor in my vision wanted, not yet anyway. But I can tell you this. It was the ghost of a young man with red hair and a beard. Good looking fellow with a winning smile. Handsome, even though he had a scar on the left side of his face. The way he was dressed, clothes perhaps from the early twentieth century, his head gear, gave me the impression he was a sailor of some sort. In the vision he was on the deck of a boat or ship. I couldn’t tell which one. The seas were calm around him and I could hear the shouts of other sailors on the ship with him.”
“What did he want?” Myrtle again. Her eyes were firmly fastened on Glinda’s face.
Glinda tilted her head and replied in a soft voice, “He told me he needed my help, our help–he actually mentioned all of you–to right a terrible wrong he’d done in his life to his young wife and daughter which is keeping him from moving on.”
“He asked for us by name?” Now Abigail was also intrigued.
“Well not by name, more by his thoughts,” Glinda explained with a casual wave of her hand as she leaned back against the gazebo’s railing. The sunlight which caught at some of the strands of her silver hair made them sparkle. “He gave me glimpses of Myrtle, Frank and you and made me understand whom he was speaking of.”
“What else did he give you glimpses of?” Frank caught Abigail’s eye. She smiled back at him. The mystery had begun.
“Not much more than that. For now. He said he’d see me again. So I thought because you, Frank, grew up here and Myrtle,” she met Myrtle’s gaze, “have lived here so long, one of you might make a connection of some sort for me.”
“Hmm,” Abigail interjected, summing up the clues, “a sailor from another century, a possible wrong done his family, a wife and a daughter, which he now wants to right. That’s not much to go on.”
“I know I haven’t heard the last from our sailor.” Glinda exchanged a look with Frank as she said it. “Ah, you’ve remembered something, haven’t you, Frank?”
She said that because Frank’s expression was one of deep contemplation then sudden enlightenment. Abigail had seen that look before many times. He’d made a connection or had recalled something.
“Maybe. Glinda, you said you think he was a sailor from the last century...perhaps around seventy, eighty years ago? There was a young wife and daughter wronged in some way and he wants you, us, to help make amends to them?”
“That’s approximately what I gleaned from the vision. As you know the images are sometimes fragmented and often difficult to decipher. I need more to really know what he wants.”
“So you didn’t get any names from him? Didn’t get his name?”
“No. But I’ll be sure to ask next time I see him, if he does revisit me.” Glinda shook her head. “You can’t depend on those ghosts for anything concrete, you know. They like to tease and taunt, and sometimes they only let you see scraps or pieces of things. Often they’re fickle, vindictive or annoying. They don’t live by the same rules as live people do.”
Myrtle chuckled and elbowed her niece affectionately. “So true, so true. They are capricious entities. Me, myself, I only believe half of whatever a spirit shows or tells me. You never know what their ulterior motives are.”
Frank didn’t react to their remarks, but thoughtfully continued on with, “I think I might know who your sailor ghost could be. Truth is, this place, the graveyard, the gazebo, and the original owner, or the builder, of Glinda’s house, have quite a local history, almost a legend, to them. All my life I grew up hearing bizarre stories of the man who built and lived in Evelyn’s house, now your house. He was quite a character, and he was a sailor, oh, about seventy, eighty years ago in the nineteen thirties or forties. Supposedly, before he settled here, he traveled the world seeking riches and plunder. He was a genuine treasure hunter, an explorer. He abandoned his family to seek a very special treasure on some island in the Caribbean and when he returned many years later his wife and daughter were lost to him. Or so the legend says.”
“Just like Jack Sparrow in those pirate movies.” Myrtle was bobbing her head as she peered up at them from her step. Pursing her lips, she scratched her head. “He was a treasure hunter who sailed the seas and looked for gold. That Johnny Depp, what a cutie.”
“And if I remember correctly,” Frank added, ignoring Myrtle’s comments, “later in his life it was said he tried to find his family. He hired private detectives to search, but his family was never found.”
“Did he find the treasure?” Abigail asked.
“Some say he must have because,” Frank was studying the landscape, the graveyard, “he eventually returned to Spookie, throwing cash all over the place, bought a large parcel of land, this land, and built what one day would be Evelyn’s house. But he kept to himself. At the moment I don’t recollect his name, but perhaps it’ll come to me in time. He was an eccentric recluse and was rarely seen in town. He had no real friends, just servants and workers, and didn’t interact with anyone once his house had been built.” Frank paused as if he were dredging up elusive memories from long ago. “I don’t recall much more than that, for now.”
In the distance a flock of ebony birds flew in circles and arcs, moving in an intricate dance, and swept away beyond the trees. Abigail loved watching the sky acrobats and had to drag her eyes away.
“Well, we’ll compile what you two do ultimately remember, what we can find out from the old newspaper articles if there are any, and I’ll let you know if the sailor appears to me again,” Glinda stated. “Perhaps he’ll give me more clues to what he wants from us.
“Well, I hate leaving good company, but it’s getting late and I have a client coming at three for a reading. Got to keep making money if I want groceries in the pantry.” She stood up.
Abigail rose from the bench and strolled down the steps past Myrtle. “Yep, we need to be going, too. I have some sketches to finish before tomorrow for my next job.”
Myrtle was right behind her. “Oh, then you did get that mural commission from that Mexican restaurant?”
“I did,” Abigail concurred. And it would be a real challenge; one she couldn’t wait to tackle. The restaurant, South of the Border, had recently opened on Main Street and served authentic Mexican dishes in a high class ambience. She’d eaten there twice already and loved how the place was decorated with vivid colors and live plants and flowers. The second time she’d been there the owner, Miguel Angel, had approached her and asked if she’d be interested in painting an authentic Mexican town on three of the walls.
“I want my customers,” he’d explained when he’d pitched the job to her, “to feel as if they are dining in a genuine Mexican village. The people and the buildings must look real. I want my patrons to feel the hot summer sun and smell the brightly colored flowers everywhere, too. Mrs. Lester, I’ve seen your work around Spookie and I love everything you’ve done. That wall mural on the side of the building as you come into town is amazing. What do you think? Would you be interested in painting my mural? If you are we can discuss fair compensation later after you’ve come up with the preliminary sketches. How soon can you have them? I would really love to get started on this.”
Of course she had accepted the commission. She’d finished her last job, a painting of someone’s house complete with the family and the dog in front of it, the week before and had been wondering when she’d be offered another job. Prayer answered. Before she’d left the restaurant she already had ideas swirling around in her head. As always she was excited at the beginning of a new artistic undertaking. It was one of the things she lived for.
That meeting had been the day before and she’d planned on beginning the sketches that afternoon. She was eager to get home and begin.
The four of them returned to Glinda’s house and went their separate ways. Myrtle to her house claiming she had things to do, heaven knew what, and she and Frank went to their home.
Once inside, Abigail inquired, “Frank, are you going back to the office now or are you going to work on the new book?” He hadn’t told her much about the new novel. He rarely did in the beginning and she never nagged him. He’d tell her about it when he was ready.
“No, I thought I’d go by the newspaper and do some digging on our sailor ghost. Since our visit with Glinda, I’m intrigued. I just called the newspaper and Samantha is there now getting the new issue ready for press. I mentioned what I wanted, told her about Glinda’s ghostly visitation, and she said she’d look in the archives for me before I got there and pull out anything she finds about the situation. She said she’d heard the stories about the sailor who’d built Evelyn’s house and his hidden treasure all her life. Seemed real interested in the whole thing. You want to come with me?”
“Nah. I’m going to knock out those sketches for Miguel Angel. He’s expecting them tomorrow. You go ahead. You can fill me in on everything you learn when you get back.
“You know, Frank, I can’t believe we’re on another one of Myrtle’s crazy mysteries again. How did this happen?”
“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t Myrtle’s doing, honey. It isn’t one of Myrtle’s mysteries at all if you think about it. It is Glinda’s. She’s the one who was contacted by the sailor’s ghost. She’s the one who’s asked us for help.”
Abigail shook her head and released a stoic sigh. “I guess you’re right. But she’s Myrtle’s niece and now we have two of them who see ghosts and drag us into dangerous secrets we are supposed to help solve. You know as well as I that somehow it’ll all lead us to a big fat mess of one sort or another. It always does.”
Frank hugged her as he chuckled. “You’re right about that. But I don’t mind. Life was getting too boring anyway.”
“Yeah, for you maybe. I like it boring and safe with Laura in college, only coming home on weekends, and Nick following his musical siren by being in a band and practicing almost every night. And your son, Kyle, a busy medical resident hours away. We have the house to ourselves more and it’s quiet. Most of the time anyway. Unless Myrtle or Glinda drop in and bring their normal brand of chaos, as they frequently do.”
Life was good and Abigail didn’t want anything to change it. Nick at sixteen was lost in his music. He could play a melody on his guitar simply by hearing it once and he was already writing his own songs. The boy was a musical genius and as talented in it as his sister was in art. Abigail was so proud of both of them, the adults they were becoming, and blessed the day so many years ago she’d met them in the library, two hungry urchins with big eyes, and the day she decided to take them under her wing and raise them. Now they were her and Frank’s children as much as Kyle and as if they’d been born to them. Laura and Nick had made her and Frank’s life so much fuller and better. And Kyle was now in his third year of medical residency at a large Chicago hospital and doing exceedingly well. He was on his way to being a good doctor. He wanted to complete a full seven years before he would hang out his physician’s shingle...hopefully joining Doctor Andy’s practice in Spookie. Frank was thrilled his son wanted to be a small town doctor and he had chosen Spookie to be that small town. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Doc Andy would be retiring about the time Kyle would be ready to take over. They rarely saw Kyle these days because his schedule was so demandingly hectic at the hospital. Whenever Frank could swung it, though, he’d drive up to Chicago and drop in at the hospital or Kyle’s apartment to visit. He missed his son.
“Don’t worry. How can a dead sailor’s spirit who only wants atonement for his earthly sins, to find his child, and a hidden treasure which may or may not have ever existed lead to any real problems for us? It was all so long ago. Probably nothing will come of any of this. Glinda has trances and dead people visiting her all the time and often they never revisit. That’ll end it. But the whole buried treasure scenario fascinates me–everyone loves tales of buried treasure–and I’m thinking I might use it somehow in my new book. The legend, I mean.”
“You might, huh?”
He nodded. “So I want to learn more about it.”
“I guess I’ll see you later then,” she said as he headed for the door. “For supper?”
“Since you’re going to be busy on those sketches, you want me to bring back something for us?” Frank offered. “How about a pizza from Marietta’s?”
“That sounds tasty. Get some of their cheesy bread and salads, too, enough for Nick. He’ll be at band practice until eight but we’ll save him some.” It was the middle of the week so Laura was at art school six hours away. The house sometimes felt empty without the children in it, but Abigail looked forward to the evening of solitary drawing. Just her and Snowball. The cat was getting older, no longer a kitten, and in the evening when she was working the cat liked to sleep on the chair beside her.
“I will pick up a pizza and sides.” Frank gave her a kiss before he walked out.
Abigail stood at the door for a moment and then gathered her art supplies so she could get started drawing. She had the strangest feeling someone would soon come knocking at her door and disrupt her solitude. Time to get to work before that happened.