She glanced up at Michael. “If you can make the bag, I’ll grab all my stuff. Twenty minutes?”
Michael shook his head. “You don’t understand what my father is capable of. If he suspects we’re leaving...”
He shuddered.
“Then let’s not give him time to think,” I told him. “You build the bag, Monique packs, and then we go for a walk in the forest.”
Surely it would be simple?
What could go wrong?
Michael sighed. “For the record, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Noted.” I nodded. “Get to work.”
To his credit, he seemed to accept my direction, and began magicking up an expandable purse for Monique. It looked the same as his but was a royal purple color. She slipped into her bedroom to grab personal belongings, and we all listened to the sounds of rummaging and books dropping.
I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I needed to calm down, and fast. This situation was turning into more than I’d expected, and I needed my heart to stop thumping so hard so I could hear myself think.
When Monique was packed, Michael shrunk the purse so it could be slipped into one of the pockets within the folds of her long orange dress.
“Let’s go.” I held out my hand.
She took it and the four of us headed off on our “stroll” down the lane. I couldn’t help but notice the whimsical last-minute glance she directed back at her cottage as we left. It wasn’t our home, but it had been hers, one she’d made herself.
She would quite possibly never see it again.