Why had I, though? I didn’t go to sleep until after ten if the book I was reading was halfway decent, and sometimes I’d stay up much later if I couldn’t put it down. Besides, Niamh was twice my age. If she could head out at eight, why couldn’t I? It’s not like I was tired…
Okay, yes, I was tired.
But it would probably take me a long time to fall asleep in this creaky old house…
Except I felt comfortable here, more comfortable than I ever had in the house I’d lived in with Matt. I felt…calm. Content. The divorce was final, Jimmy was doing well, the house payments were gone…
I felt liberated! It finally occurred to me that I could do whatever I wanted—even have ice cream for dinner if I wanted.
Screw it, I wanted to go out.
I would go have a drink with the rock-throwing granny across the street. There were worse ways to spend my time. Like hang out with Mr. Tom and probably get told a new name to call him.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I looked around for my purse. The antique wood furniture, well-made with exquisite carvings, held all manner of interesting figurines and trinkets, but no purse. The coat rack was empty. The little table by the door had a plate holding the enormous key, but no handbag to put it in.
“Are you going out, ma’am?”
I jumped, spun, and held out a hand like a karate chop. I didn’t know karate, but sometimes a good bluff was the ticket.
“Yes,” I answered, dropping the hand within his unimpressed stare. “Where’s my handbag—oh.” I took it from his white gloved hand. For some inexplicable reason, he’d changed from his moth-eaten, tattered suit to a moth-eaten tux. He wasn’t much of a sweats guy, it seemed. His cape still hung down his back.
“You’re really into super heroes, huh?” I asked, pointing at the cape.
“Super heroes were created by miserable Dicks who can live greatness only through the page. I live it through my life.”
Oh super. He was delusional. I’d definitely be buried in the yard before all this was over.
“Okay, well…” I held up my purse for a moment. “Thanks for grabbing my—”
“You’ll want a light jacket, ma’am.” He left the room.
I waited for a moment, wondering if he planned to grab one. He’d grabbed my purse, after all. But since all my clothes were up in my room, and he wasn’t climbing either of the curved stairwells to the landing over the massive archway, it wasn’t likely. Besides, we were inland near the Sierras—the temperature didn’t drop that much or fast. I’d be fine. The alcohol would keep me warm.
I tucked the key into my purse, frowned at the weight, and let myself out. Was changing the locks out of the question? I’d have to wear that key in a holster when I went jogging.
“Good evening.” A man stood off the side of the porch with clippers in hand. His long face and loose jowls looked familiar.
“You’re the gardener, right?” I asked with a smile.
“Edgar, yes.” His lips pulled wide, showing yellowed teeth with somewhat long canines. “How nice of you to remember. It has been such a long time for you.”
By his tone, it sounded like he was commenting on my age. I nearly clapped back with, “For you too, buddy, don’t fool yourself.”
“It has, yes,” I said instead.
“You’ll have to come and see the labyrinth,” he said, opening the clippers but not leaning toward the perfectly tended hedge. “I’ve made some additions. You’ll be lost for days this time, I swear it.”
“Wow, good memory.” I remembered when Diana and I had explored it. She’d led the way in the beginning, winding deep into the heart of it. The problem had come when it was time to leave—each path she led us down came to a dead end. We’d been confused. Then scared. We’d worried we’d never find our way out. But then…I just kinda…started walking, I remember. I felt my way, as odd as that sounded, listening to my intuition. We’d eventually made our way out the exit, half a day after walking in the entrance. “How do you even remember that? I didn’t until you just brought it up.”
He closed the clippers again and winked. “I was waiting to save you girls. It was the shock of my life that you made it out. I knew then that you were destined for great things.”
“I was destined for great things because I made it out of a plant maze?” I asked, laughing.
“Yes,” he answered, clearly not seeing the humor.
“Oh.” I gave him my best please-don’t-kill-me-and-bury-me-in-the-maze smile. “Okay, well…see ya.”
“Yes.”
Niamh sat on her porch, rocking slowly, her pile of rocks at her side. It appeared she hadn’t had any more Mr. Tom sightings.