Page 37 of One Last Breath

Annabelle chuckles with more than a hint of bitterness. “I wish everyone could say that.” Her smile fades. “Poor Lila. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

I stifle the surge of emotion that runs through me and try to keep my voice nonchalant. “What happened to her?”

Annabelle doesn’t answer. She looks out the window and says, “I think I will take some tea after all.”

I am no longer interested in waiting for tea to brew, but it won’t do to press her, so I say, “Of course dear. Peppermint, or something else?”

“Something else. What do you like to drink?”

“I suppose I’m a stereotype for this,” I say, “but I absolutely love a Darjeeling or an Earl Grey in the afternoon.”

“Let’s go with Earl Grey. Then we can experience an aristocrat who isn’t a pompous asshole.”

“Hear, hear!”

She giggles and heads upstairs to change while I make the tea. I sigh, a little exasperated at having to wait, but mostly excited at finally getting an answer to the mystery I’ve been trying to solve for weeks. I prepare the tea with cream and sugar on the side in a traditional service, and somewhat absurdly feel gratified that I can finally enjoy tea the way it’s meant to be enjoyed.

I carry the service outside, and a moment later, Annabelle meets me. She’s wearing a light green sundress that looks absolutely stunning on her. The man who finally wins her heart will be lucky indeed.

She sits across from me and sips her tea, free of cream or sugar. She closes her eyes and sighs as the warmth pervades her, and I remark, perhaps a little smugly, “That is the way tea was meant to be taken.”

“I can see why you like it,” she says. “It’s like instant calm. Is this why you’re so even-tempered all the time?”

If only that were true. “It certainly helps.”

She takes another sip, then takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “I didn’t hate Lila.”

My shock this time isn’t as great as my shock the last time we spoke, but it’s hard for me to understand Annabelle. More to the point, the abrupt switch between indifference to hatred and now back to… whatever she’s feeling now… is too much for me to adjust to.

So, I don’t respond, and after a moment, Annabelle continues.

“I treated her like I did, though. She was boring, but it was the schoolwork that was boring more than Lila. I hated being here away from my friends, and I hated feeling like some sort of cloistered princess. I hated my life, and I took it out on her.” She looks at me. “Did I say this the last time?”

“Yes, or nearly that,” I confirm. “And I believe I chose to defend your parents rather than sympathize with you. I’m sorry for that.”

She waves my apology away. “Don’t be sorry. I get that older people want what’s best for us. I just wish my parents weren’t so concerned with everyone else’s opinion. I wonder sometimes if that’s why Lila had a falling out with them.”

My ears perk up. “Falling out?”

“Yeah. Lila was nosy. She always wanted to know about the family’s business. It got worse when she kept asking about our past, especially Grandma’s past.”

“Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I sip my tea and say, “I hope you don’t think I’m nosy.”

She shakes her head. “Not the same way she was nosy. You’re curious, but that’s fine. Mom and Dad don’t mind when people are curious. Like the garden. Mom doesn’t really share the garden with people, but she isn’t going to get bent out of shape because you happened to wonder what it was. It’s when people start asking about scandals and secrets and skeletons that it gets annoying. Mom and Dad figured out that she was asking me a bunch of questions about the family, and the next thing you know, she’s gone.”

I struggle to contain my reaction. “You don’t say? Do you think she was fired?”

“Well, yeah,” she replies. “Mom and Dad told me she just left, but she wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. I don’t think she liked me any more than I liked her, but she would have said goodbye just to be polite. She didn’t, and she left in a hurry because her stuff was in your room, so whatever Mom and Dad said, it was bad enough that they wanted her gone now.”

“Do you have any idea what could have made them so angry?”

“No idea. But they were really angry. They wouldn’t talk about her anymore. When I asked what happened, they just said she was gone and not to worry about it.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, though. They like you.”

“That’s good to hear,” I say and mean it.

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