Page 10 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Newspapers, magazines and books were stacked on and around the foyer table, all frosted with a thin layer of dust. A tall oak coatrack stood beside a large gilded mirror hanging on the wall. The ornamental rug was the same one from when they were kids, and it too had seen better days—now faded to a pale burgundy, the pattern worn in the center and the edges frayed. She looked up. The light fixture overhead was also covered in wispy, floating cobwebs.
Why on earth is he living like this?
“Um, this way…” Jasper said, gesturing with his free hand. “The house is a mess but the study is a little better. We can sit in there.”
He walked forward, down the dim corridor, and Violet followed. The house even smelled timeworn. Not bad, but of dusty things—old furniture and paper, the air dry and cool. Opening a few windows would be an easy fix. Old family portraits on the walls showed Jasper as a boy, grinning ear-to-ear as a happy and healthy child. Other photographs revealed his parents smiling and posed close together—one of his father and mother gazing romantically into each other’s eyes and another of the three of them, hugging and laughing. The images were like stills from a movie reel of a blissful family.
“You can sit on the couch,” Jasper said when they reached the wide entrance to the study. “I’ll put the groceries away and make tea.” He stalked off, his long legs carrying him toward the kitchen.
Violet stepped inside. Here too, the curtains were shut. Only a single beam of sunlight streamed in, hitting the creaky hardwood floor. The rest of the room was primarily lit by warm firelight dancing in the hearth, casting shadows over the adjacent wall of bookcases and the desk in a nearby corner. She settled on the brown leather couch. It was soft, and not dusty like everything else she’d seen thus far. Clearly, this room was where Jasper spent most of his time.
Glancing around, Violet observed the details of the space. A laptop on the desk. Beside it, black-rimmed glasses, a coffee mug and… nuts? Trail mix, just sitting atop some papers. A different coffee mug on the low table in front of her along with lots of books. She immediately recognized some titles. Violet leaned forward and picked one up, turning it over in her hands in amazement.
She flipped through the pages, skimming one of her favorite passages as Jasper returned with a tray of cups and a teakettle. She narrowed her eyes. Something about the tea set was very familiar as he placed it down on the table (and atop a stack of books, inevitably).
“Is this Gram’s?” she asked. She hadn’t seen this particular set since she was a teenager.
He nodded. “Yes. She gave it to me a long time ago for when she came over—you can take it with you today if you—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised. So, she would sit with you?”
Violet knew that Gram had been dropping off Jasper’s groceries for many years now. At least since he’d turned eighteen. But she was under the impression that it was a simple “drop and run” delivery arrangement. She hadn’t known that Gloria regularly spoke with him, let alone sat and had tea with him. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned that?
Jasper stepped around the table, sitting in the armchair adjacent to the couch. The fireplace flickered and popped behind him. “Yes,” he said, rubbing his palms across his faded charcoal trousers. “She’d come inside and visit when she dropped off the groceries.” There was a moment of hesitation, but then he looked up at Violet, meeting her eyes. “I’m so sorry about her passing. She—Gloria was truly a wonderful person.”
Smiling, Violet took a breath to soothe the permanent ache in her chest. “She was. And pretty fond ofyou, it seems.”
Jasper waved a hand. “She pitied me. There’s a difference.” He leaned forward, gripping the kettle handle and pouring hot water into her cup. “I only have chamomile, but there’s lemon or honey, if you’d like.”
Pitied him?Violet didn’t say so, but she disagreed. Gloria Marie wasn’t the type of person to do things out of pity. She gave her time and energy to people she found deeply valuable in some way. She’d been a very intentional woman.
The silence was awkward as they arranged their tea. Eventually, Violet asked, “Are you doing okay?”
His tea in hand, he shrugged. “I’m fine. How are you? Are you still working in the city?”
“How do you know I work in the city?”
“I—well, I hear things from time to time. And where else would you be working? How’s it going?”
“I’ve had the same job for about three years, but I’m working remotely now. I’m thinking of moving back and staying in Gram’s house for good.”
“Really? There’s nothing here. Everything is the same as it was when you left.”
Violet smiled. “Yeah. Freddie is still working in the grocery store—ringing up groceries like when we were teens.”
“Well, he’s the owner now. He’s still an idiot, though.”
“I noticed. Did he take over for his father?”
Jasper nodded. “His father died maybe five years ago? I’m surprised he hasn’t run it into the ground, but I suppose it’s what he knows.”
“Probably the only thing he knows.” Violet grinned. Jasper smiled with a huff, a little breath of a laugh, before pulling his tea to his mouth and glancing away from her.
“You read Ambrose Marcello?” she asked.
He paused, lowering his cup. “I read a lot of things. Why?”
“I saw the books on the table, but I’ve never seen these editions before. I love his writing so much—it’s expressive and vivid. Reading his books makes me feel like I’m traveling the world. My absolute favorite isThe Moroccan Butterfly.”
