Chapter 4
The restful night’s sleep Fantasy thought she would have hadn’t happened. She tossed and turned all night. At one point she dreamed a gigantic computer was chasing her. Just when she thought she had gotten away it tapped her on the shoulder and commanded that she hit send. As crazy as it was, the dreamlike nightmare seemed to go on and on. By the time the dark still of the night gave way to daybreak, she was wide awake.
Since enjoying her bed wasn’t something she got to do as often as she liked, she didn’t even budge. After flipping a few channels, she decided to partake in a little in-house church. The option was much better than getting up, dressing, and going to the New Life Christian Center: her second church home. She’d been going there forever and still she was listed on the church roster as a member under watch care. Fantasy willingly paid her tithes and offerings, and when in town she volunteered and helped out with the public relations ministry whenever she could. As somewhat of a journalism celebrity she even did a few speaking engagements and mentored a group of teenage aspiring media gurus.
Today, though, she didn’t even feel like getting up. Maybe she was coming down with something. She just wasn’t sure. Fantasy threw back the sheet and decided to go out and get the paper. She walked out of her suite, down the hall, and around the corner toward the foyer that led to the front door. It was mornings like this, when her knees didn’t want to cooperate, that she was glad she decided to design her home with the master suite on the first floor. There were no other signs of anything physically wrong, but the familiar aches and pains had woken up with her. They were definitely not welcome, but they never ever asked her for permission to put a damper on her day. Nor had she received a warning that she would be plagued with rheumatoid arthritis which had gotten worse lately. Not to mention a painful herniated disc from an automobile accident a year before. Still, she pushed, and decided she would deal with it later, much later. That way she would be prepared for whatever medical advice they gave her this time around. Fantasy would listen, but she didn’t plan on going along with nor giving consideration to any procedure they deemed necessary for a better-than-average prognosis.
She deactivated the alarm on the wall near the door and opened the front door wide, frowning against the bright sunrays. Everything was pretty quiet, but, then, it was barely 6:00 A.M. The houses on both sides of hers were occupied by two guys who, much like herself, had very busy careers. Both of them were single with no kids, and they always mentioned that there was no time for them to date and meet Ms. Right. They were too busy climbing the corporate ladder.
Fantasy’s family track had not taken the traditional route. She was a single mother who birthed a son very early. Her grandparents insisted that she could be a mother, finish college, and go on to graduate school. With their help rearing Kameron, she jumped full force into the occupation of her choice, and the rest, as they say, was history.
Fantasy walked back through the route she had taken and placed her body back on the bed. Reaching for the remote, she turned to CNN, settled her back against two oversized pillows, and placed two small pillows under both of her feet. She was thinking that she should have detoured to the kitchen, turned on the coffee maker, and grabbed a bagel. Maybe later, she thought. She relaxed into the cushioning feel of her king-sized bed and allowed herself to become completely engaged in the world’s current news events.
The phone rang, cutting into her news time. Process of elimination told her quickly that it couldn’t be Kam or Nick. Neither of them would be calling before the sun had fully ascended over the day. There were only two people she knew of who got up with the chickens: Pearl and Matthew Whitman. Her grandparents were all for catching the early worm. Looking at the caller ID to confirm what she already knew to be true, Fantasy answered cheerfully, “Good morning, Nana.” That was what she always called her grandmother. It was such a fitting term of endearment, and she loved the sound of it.
“Good morning, Fantasy. How are you this beautiful Lord’s day?” Pearl Whitman’s voice was as joyful and gay as it always was. As far back as Fantasy could remember, her Nana had never acted as if she had a bad day. She couldn’t even remember an occasion that caused her to react any way contrary to her usual happy and jovial self.
Fantasy could hear the television and other muffled noises in the background. She didn’t have to be in her grandparents’ home to recollect the Sunday morning routine. Her grandmother would be in the kitchen preparing breakfast and finishing up Sunday dinner. Breakfast would be on the table by 7:30, and at 9:30 sharp they would be out the door and on their way to Zion Baptist. Because she could also clock exactly how long it would take Reverend Johns to share the gospel, they would be back home by 12:45. The two hour and forty-five minute span of time covered Sunday School, praise and worship, sermon, collection, and the afterservice social exchange. Service time was so predictable, whatever the Lord told the good Reverend Johns to say he made sure it never took longer than thirty-five to forty minutes. He was old school, and felt that the yesteryear method of delivering a sermon was fine. In his opinion, the congregation didn’t need a lot of extra hoopla, just the Word, one short hoop, and the benediction. “I’m fine. Just went to the front door to get the morning paper. Now I’m watching CNN and in a few minutes I’m tuning in to get a little in-house Jesus.” Fantasy waited to see if her grandmother was going to chastise her for reducing Sunday worship to an in-house experience.
“Normally, I’d get on you for taking that route, but you have been working extremely hard lately. You really need the extra rest.” Pearl responded to what her grandchild had shared.
“It’s not my norm, but it’s basically all I have planned for today.” Fantasy leaned her head back against the cushion of the extra large down feather pillows, thankful she didn’t get the lecture she expected. The idea of relaxing and getting the extra rest her grandmother had mentioned was just what she needed.
“That’s a great plan. I wish we’d known you were going to take a rest day. Your grandfather and I could have missed service and driven up to spend the day with you.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Not that I don’t want to see you guys, but that’s a drive you two don’t need to take on my account. I’m fine, and if anyone needs to be on the road to visit, it’s me.”
“Well, we are folks of leisure and can just about do whatever we want, whenever we want. By the time you do rest you are too exhausted to do anything. Hold a second, sweetheart.” Pearl yelled out to her husband, “Matthew, check on the rolls for me, please.”
“How is Granddad?” Fantasy glanced at the headline of the paper she had placed on the bed beside her. “I called to talk to him Thursday evening while you were at the nursing home playing bingo. He was so into some television show that we didn’t chat long. You know how he is when he’s watching one of his shows.” She chuckled. Her grandfather didn’t have many leisure activities, but watching television was at the top of his short list. He would watch everything from news, sitcoms, and detective shows to old westerns.
“Don’t I know it?” Pearl laughed heartily. “Matthew don’t talk to nobody when he’s watching his shows. Not even me. I spend more time talking to myself than I do talking to my own husband.”
“Got to love him.” Fantasy laughed.
“You know I do,” Pearl added.
It was always apparent that the older couple loved each other with a passion. Fantasy couldn’t think of anyone she would want to spend a week with, let alone sixty years. Matthew and Pearl Whitman were stellar examples of the part that says “’til death do us part.”
“Have you talked to Kam?”
“Yes, I talked with him last night for a few minutes. He’s fine.” Fantasy reached for the remote to turn the television down. She was trying to give her grandmother undivided attention, and yet the constant interesting CNN headlines were pulling at her. Fantasy muted the volume, knowing that it would make listening to her phone conversation a whole lot easier. There was so much going on in the news, all of the top stories were enough to distract anyone. “Brittany is there for a visit.”
“Oh that’s good. She’s a sweet young lady; so polite and pretty.” Pearl paused and coughed softly. “He’s really taking their relationship seriously. She’s the one, Fantasy. I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t hear some wedding bells the minute he finishes law school.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” She grimaced. Fantasy wasn’t upset about that possibility, but it was something that she had not totally wrapped her mind around. She couldn’t help but wonder if Kam getting married would affect their special mother-son bond. “Well, I want him to take his time. Even after he finishes school, he will need time to get himself situated financially. He’ll need a house, a secure position with a firm, and a little mad money stored up. There’s just so much to consider when you think about marrying someone.”
“Those all sound like the logical steps necessary to walking down the aisle, but these are young folk; they don’t always take the path that’s clearly laid out for them. They’d much prefer some detours.” Pearl had spoken out of wisdom. It was wisdom she had gained from raising her daughter, who chose a lifestyle so different from what she and her husband had expected. They knew she had a great mind and could easily have been a dynamic business person. They just hadn’t expected it to be in the occupation she chose. Then there was their granddaughter. While Fantasy had a brief interruption in getting her life together, she’d been able to bounce back. Fantasy hadn’t suffered. Pearl was sure that, whatever route Kam took, he would not suffer either. They had all pulled together and created a solid family for him, and he had flourished.
“Nana, you are right.” Fantasy knew she likely sounded unsupportive. She really didn’t mean to be all down in the mouth about Kam’s relationship. Brittany was a jewel, and she was sure there were a lot of other females out there who didn’t have it together like she did. The fact remained, though, that Kam was her baby boy. “Well, you go ahead and finish preparing dinner. I’ll call you this evening, if that’s okay.”
“That would be perfectly fine. I’ll tell you all about service and let you know how many people fall asleep during the sermon. I declare, Reverend Johns got to step it up a notch. I’ve been going around the corner to Bishop Thomas’s church for Friday Night Live just to get my Jesus on. That man can preach ’em under the pews.” Pearl cracked up, laughing at her own summation of Bishop Thomas’s preaching.
“Nana, you are too much. Reverend Johns is going to catch you and that chasing-Jesus crew you hang out with. When he does, he’s going to escort all of you right back to Zion Baptist.” Fantasy was speaking of her grandmother’s three best friends: Beulah, Sadie, and Martha. They were always by Pearl Whitman’s side whether at church events, shopping, or just sitting out on the porch. They were the most lovable little ladies Fantasy knew. Not one of them looked a day over sixty, although they were each well into their seventies.
“He can’t catch up. Our slowest speed is too fast for him. Now, I’ll holla at you later. Peace out.” Pearl hung up the phone.
Fantasy laughed, knowing that her nana had spent too much time talking to Kam. She spoke out loud, repeating Nana. “Peace out.” It was time she talked to Kam about teaching his grandmother Ebonics.
“To think that boy is going to be a lawyer talking like that,” she said out loud. He would often tell her that, regardless of what he did in his nine-to-five, he would always keep it real. She didn’t mind the keeping it real part; however, she had a thing for speaking proper English on a regular basis. Fantasy always wanted people to know that she was well educated. It was a personal thing, perhaps, but she had worked hard to achieve a piece of the American dream against odds that were stacked against her. She felt it would be a disservice to her profession if she didn’t articulate well. Now, of course she had a little hood in her; that was just the plain and simple truth. The streets of Brooklyn were still in her bones, but that was a world away. She had lost too much in those streets to hold on to anything that it had to offer.
Before she could put the cordless phone completely down, her cell phone went off. It was still early, and she wondered who it was until she eyed the display. “Good morning to you, bestie. Don’t tell me you couldn’t wait a few more hours for my report.”
“You know I couldn’t.” Nick spoke with a husky voice that was laden with what sounded like the remnants of sleep. “I went to the bathroom to pee and thought I’d call before I go back to sleep.”
“Hold up, TMI. I don’t need to know where you just came from and what you were doing. Dag, we are too close.” Again, Fantasy picked up the paper. All she wanted was a peaceful morning to read the paper and watch CNN. Her next plan of action would be to have a light breakfast of strawberry cream cheese on a bagel, and a cup of Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee with a splash of hazelnut cream. To make it all seem extra special, Fantasy thought she might even put the bagel on one of her good plates and use a matching cup and saucer for the coffee. “It’s not like this is a new process for you. Same drill, just a different girl.”
Nick turned over in his bed. “Stop delaying and give me the goods.” Dee had spent a couple of hours at his apartment after they left AJ’s. While they’d talked, and he’d held her in his arms, he was a gentleman and didn’t even consider crossing the line with her. He never slept with a woman on the first or second date, and sometimes not even the third. That was a rule for him. He was old fashioned in a lot of ways. In fact, there were a few women he dated for a lot longer and he never slept with them.
“Okay, well can I at least call you back after I make some coffee?” Fantasy wasn’t trying to buy time; she had no problem telling him about her discovery. The thing was that she was exhausted, and unless she took in some caffeine, she would be sleeping through the morning and most of the day.
“That won’t work. We are on the cell and I’m sure you can chew gum and walk. So, waltz on into the kitchen and get your coffee and something to eat, all while continuing to talk to me.” Nick hoped that Fantasy delaying the conversation didn’t mean that her radar had picked up on something negative about Dee. It wasn’t like her to be so indirect, and she was not one to avoid sharing when the situation was warranted. Nick added, “Stop delaying and just tell me what you think.” “Okay, jeez. You are so hard on me.” Fantasy sucked her teeth playfully.
“Well, make it happen for a brother,” said Nick.
“Can I at least brush my teeth and wash my face?” Fantasy questioned.
“If you can talk while you do it,” Nick said.
Fantasy walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. “Nick, as I told you last night, Dee seems like a very nice person. I mean she’s smart and pretty, and from all she shared, the lady has a lot going for her.” She hit speaker and placed the phone on the granite bathroom vanity. Fantasy turned on the water and began to brush her teeth.
Nick listened to Fantasy’s recap, but grinned to himself, thinking about her physical assets. There was a tightening down below, and he could only smile, thinking about the possibilities. He wasn’t trying to make it happen immediately, but it was something to look forward to later. “She is so beautiful. I mean, I could look at her forever. The fact that she’s got it all together is icing on the cake. To be honest, her looks and her body had me from the word go.”
Fantasy listened as she placed a dab of foam cleanser in her hands and rubbed them together before smoothing it all over her face. “I didn’t miss you checking out her body, but need I remind you there’s more to consider? Nick, we have had our share of drama. I say ‘we’ because I’ve been along for the ride. And, let me tell you, riding shotgun with you is no joke.” Fantasy looked at her face for a second before applying moisturizer to her forehead, cheeks, and chin.
“I can’t debate that. You are a great friend, and, just because I know that you want to hear me say it, you’ve always been right there with me,” said Nick. “I could sing a line of “That’s What Friends Are For,” but my singing voice doesn’t kick in ’til noon.”
“We both know you can’t carry a note. Speaking of notes, Nick, do you remember Kelly?”
“Kelly?” he questioned.
“She was that nightclub singer you saw for about a hot minute. But, greater than that, she was the one who scaled the wall outside your apartment building and swung onto the balcony.”
“Oh, man, how could I forget that trick? I still can’t believe that someone so beautiful could be so out of touch with good sense. That crazy girl climbed over the balcony all because she had stood outside my apartment door and heard female voices. Number one: she shouldn’t have been outside my door since she had not been invited; and number two: the voices were yours and Mom’s. She just took it upon herself to drop by.”
“You not inviting her might be what turned her into Spider-Woman. But as if climbing three stories weren’t enough, girlfriend started a fire out there.”
Nick recalled their shock at smelling smoke. Once they’d opened the balcony door, Kelly stood in the corner, holding a hammer in one hand and a rope in the other. “She almost gave my poor mom a heart attack. I got the lecture of a lifetime about bad choices.”
“I remember.” Fantasy was right with his mom about the bad choices. Kelly could have burned the place down. “You may have gotten a lecture, but Mom Albright almost knocked you down trying to get to Kelly. If your mom had gotten a hold of her, she would have had a beat down flashback every time she saw a match.”
“No doubt.” Nick laughed, thinking about how irate Kelly had been and how ghetto his mom had gotten. She’d taken her earrings off and pushed her sleeves up. “Now, if you are finished going down disaster memory lane, let’s get back to the subject at hand.”
“All right.” She paused. “There was only one small, tiny, weensy issue. I don’t think that it’s anything you should be alarmed about. To be completely honest, I almost missed it.”
“What did you almost miss?”
“You remember how Dee and I went back and forth with the cosmetology conversation?”
“Yes.” Nick was hoping that if he gave one-word replies, she would get to the point quicker.
“Her hair was perfect and flawless. But it was a little too perfect. I’m afraid to tell you this, but Dee wears a weave.” She held her breath, knowing that Nick detested fake hair. He couldn’t even stand seeing women sporting fake ponytails.
“What?” Nick sounded more awake than he did when their conversation began.
“It’s a very expensive weave job and very high end, if that counts.” Fantasy tried to add a positive spin to what he likely saw as doom.
“Dee’s hair isn’t the real thing?” Nick mumbled. If he had to pick one thing he liked about Dee, it would be her hair. Nick kept his hair cut short. A close inspection and anyone could tell that he had nice hair. If he were to grow it out, a mass of curls would have covered his head. He wasn’t sure if his blessing in the area of hair was the reason, but he had a thing for hair. To him there was something erotic about running his fingers through a woman’s hair. “Maybe it is her hair and she’s mixed with something. Indian, maybe.”
Fantasy poured the wonderfully smelling coffee into her “world’s greatest journalist” imprinted mug. She mixed in a little hazelnut creamer from the container she pulled from the door of the refrigerator. Her morning relaxation had been altered to the point that she didn’t even bother to remove her good china. “Nick, it’s a weave. I don’t think she has Indian in her blood. I could be wrong, but a brown-skinned Pocahontas she’s not. In fact, I could pick up an identical match from one of the stores uptown.” She took a big bite of her bagel that was covered with strawberry cream cheese, and waited for his reply. It came after a few seconds.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say.” Nick was blown away.
“It’s just hair, and she never told you that it belonged to her.” Fantasy was trying to help him see reason about something that shouldn’t have made a lot of difference. “I mean, technically it does belong to her. She pays some good money to keep that hair looking tight.”
Nick sighed into the phone. “Well, I’m going back to bed.”
“Please don’t tell me that you are kicking her to the curb because of her hair, Nick.” She looked out the same window at the same view she’d taken in last night. It had been dark then, but now, in the daylight, it was just as beautiful. “That’s not a good reason to stop seeing her. As I said, she seems like a really nice person.”
“I know what I like, but I’m not that superficial or shallow, even when it comes to hair. I’ll continue to kick it with Dee and see what happens.”
Fantasy was a little relieved. The truth was, though, that no other weave-wearing female had gotten beyond hello with him. Other than the hair issue, which she knew Nick had a problem with, she rated Dee on the high side of an eight. It might not have been a ten, but it was a lot higher than her normal rating for his love interests.
“I’m going to bed now, and I’ll get back up at a more acceptable waking hour, say around two P.M. Talk with you later.”
“Oh, okay. Well, don’t forget that I’m catching an early flight to Chicago on Wednesday and I won’t be back until Saturday.” Fantasy was mentally pulling together a list of what she needed to take care of before she left.
“No problem.” Nick changed over to his profesisional side. “Handle your business and I’ll have the research finished by Monday afternoon. Will that work for you?”
The last thing she was worried about was having the research on time. Nick was never late with his factfinding investigations. “No worries. Monday evening is actually fine. I don’t plan on doing anything with it until Tuesday. My plan is to rest and enjoy some solitude.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Nick questioned, very concerned, suddenly hearing something other than exhaustion in her voice. Why hadn’t he picked up on it earlier? She never just lay around when she was at home. Fantasy was usually as busy as a bee and constantly in overdrive. He hadn’t put himself aside long enough to see that his friend was out of sorts. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m great. A little slow, but after I rest up for a couple of hours, I’ll be as good as new.” She hoped he bought her story. It was partly true. But saying she was great was a stretch. Fantasy hoped it fell under the category of a little white lie.
“Well, call me if you need me. I’ll definitely check on you later,” said Nick.
“You do not have to check on me later. Why don’t you call to see if Dee wants to take in a movie? Or, better yet, take her to the park for a walk. That would be very romantic.”
“Check this out: you telling me how to plan a romantic day. Like I’m the one out of practice.” Nick couldn’t believe his friend. She was always so concerned about what was going on in his life that she never paused to consider making the most out of her life.
“They tell me it’s just like riding a bicycle.” Fantasy started laughing. It was a strained laugh, because the truth was that Nick was right. She knew absolutely nothing about dating. In fact, her last date had been more than two years ago, when she’d decided that it was just too much work. It had nothing to do with attraction, or the gentleman not wining and dining her. Mike had been a good guy and he’d held his own. There was nothing that she could offer or give him. That was part of the problem: he wanted her and she couldn’t risk being tempted to give herself to him.
“You know, there are a lot of people who fall off a bike.” Nick busted out laughing.
“Ha-ha, very funny, best friend. For your information, I can still ride a bike. If you have skill, you seldom lose it. Now, bye. Go to sleep.” Before he could reply, she clicked the cell phone off.
She had been messing around talking to Nick for so long that she was no longer tired. In fact, she was fully alert. Fantasy looked around. This was by far her favorite room in the entire house. Not because she was a gourmet chef; she was several perfected dishes from that. She could put together a decent meal that was not just filling but pleasing to the palate when she put her mind to it. Of course, her meals were nothing compared to the meals her grandmother prepared, but Kam never starved or complained.
Fantasy never wanted to be just average at anything. When time afforded itself, she worked hard trying to improve her culinary skills. On top of that, she spent a lot of free Saturdays shadowing her grandmother in the kitchen, hoping to pick up a few tricks of the trade that would make her a wiz.
For Fantasy, there was more to the custom-created kitchen being her favorite room than meal preparation. The kitchen was her grandmother’s ideal space in her home. Nana’s kitchen became a safe haven for Fantasy after her mother was brutally murdered and, at age twelve, she moved in with them. So many talks, comforting words, smiles, hugs, and kisses were shared to reassure Fantasy that all would be well. It seemed that fixing her heart became connected to creating aromas and whipping up an array of comfort foods that tasted wonderful and put an instant smile on her face. If her youthful metabolism hadn’t worked so well, she would have been an overweight teenager. Her grandmother’s method, coupled with all the love two people could give, healed her. Because of it, she survived a storm that would have so effortlessly enveloped her soul and left a huge hole in her being that no one could begin to repair.
She blamed her mother’s demise on the lifestyle she lived, and she blamed her even more for making her a witness to it all. Valerie thought she was preparing her to take over the family business. She said it would make her tough, allow her to see life and living for what it was. A dog-eat-dog world, she’d say. She warned Fantasy that only the strong survived and that if she wanted the good life, she’d have to take it. Valerie told her only child that her beauty was a gift from God and it should be used as a moneymaker. Fantasy didn’t always understand all of what was shared with her. In time, she came to understand Valerie Whitman’s measure of worth and what she believed to be the good life. She also lived with what it cost them.
Fantasy opened the pill bottle she’d removed from under the island. She swallowed two tablets and drank a little coffee behind them. Hopefully, the medicine would kick in and she would be able to do a few things around the house, maybe even get in a little shopping. Her weekly grocery shopping remained undone, and she had received some discount vouchers to her favorite boutique that she was dying to spend. A trip out would require the pain to subside, and she was hopeful the two tablets would work their medical magic. Not wanting to go directly to what she was doing before the interruptions, she walked into her office and turned the computer on. Once it came on, she logged in quickly to her e-mail account. She hummed while it came up, and she opened the inbox. There were a ton of e-mails; some would immediately go into her trash bin, and others were business and she’d check them out later. Just as she was scrolling through the inbox contents, she saw that a few people had sent her messages on Facebook. Julie Smith was one of her pending friends. She remembered her from an assignment she’d had a few years ago. Julie had also sent a wedding invitation some months ago. She’d check in on her later and see all the photos from what was probably a beautiful, breathtaking wedding. Fantasy didn’t want to hate, but she was sure seeing photos of someone else getting married ought to do wonders for her spirits.
She went to the next message in her inbox that was alerting her that she had a Facebook message, and there it was: Victor Charles had responded to her message. After blinking a few times, Fantasy read the e-mail again. There was indeed a message from Victor Charles waiting for her. All that it required was that she log into the site.
He’d responded. It had been less than twenty-four hours. When she sent the message she wasn’t sure that he would even reply. Now that there was a message waiting for her she wasn’t sure what to think. Maybe she should have just checked out his profile and moved on. She was always the inquisitive mind when she should have left it all alone. Victor now knew that she was alive and breathing. Other than a few tidbits of personal information and a couple of headshots, there wasn’t much he could learn about her.
After she glanced at a few other e-mails, trying to distract herself, she logged into her Facebook account. It took only a few seconds to go to her messages and open the one from Victor. Fantasy took a deep breath and began to read:
Yes, this is definitely a blast from the past, and a very pleasant one. I do remember you, Fantasy. I must admit, when I saw your message I looked out my window, thinking you had someone posted outside my house ready to take me out. You see, in remembering, I also remember the hurt I caused you. It was long ago, true, but nevertheless a period of time that I have not forgotten. I was young and dumb, and I handled “us” badly. For what it’s worth, I’m so very sorry. Even now that doesn’t seem like enough. I know my apology is coming some twenty years later, and I wish that weren’t the case. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and for all these years it has haunted me. Somehow I knew our paths would cross again and I’d have a chance to make amends, or at least try. A young man is too naïve to fix what he messes up, and an older man cares so much about mending what’s broken it is all he can think about. There was no way I could ever forget. Fantasy, if you will let me, I’d like to keep in touch with you. I just want the opportunity to say and do what I should have so long ago. Forever! Victor
By the time Fantasy read the very last sentence she didn’t know what to think. The one thing she wondered about had just happened. She opened the door and Victor had just walked through it.