Cristina rearranged the lines on her face and dabbled with her hair, waiting for Agnes to open the door. What was taking her so long? Finally she did and Cristina heard laughter – the ebullient Mr. Larney was inside. Oh, good. He always brought a smile to my face.
“This wind, Agnes. What’s a girl to do with her hair?”
“It doesn’t look windy to me, Cristina. Come inside.”
“Howdy, Mr. Larney!” Cristina said. He wore a blue jacket and a red bow tie. Always so cheerful, so unlike Norman. Cristina couldn’t imagine Agnes being happy with a dour husband like Norman when she had such a lively friend as Mr. Larney.
“It’s the lovely Cristina Rosamilia, I’ll be bound – a million roses for you, my dear,” Mr. Larney said.
“Mr. Larney and I – Brian, I mean,” Agnes said, “were just finishing up our visit.”
“I have to be on my way, Cristina,” he said, grabbing his coat and hat – a dark green, yet another color for him. “I have an 8-year old piano student to teach. Agnes, I will consider your offer.”
After he left, Cristina said, “What is he talking about?”
They went into the parlor room and sat on the sofa. “I’ve asked him to move in here with us, Cristina.”
Cristina wondered what Norman’s mother would think of the shuffle in the household. Norman had been dead three weeks and buried twenty-four hours, and Agnes was asking another man – even if it was the old “confirmed bachelor” Mr. Larney – to move into the house. Victoria would raise bloody hell.
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