I wasn’t quite finished with the story I was telling by the time 2025 ended and so decided to continue it until it reached an ending point. Then I will start a new one. Besides, I kind of want to see where Penelope ends up. And so we have…
Day 200: She reached for the second Book Mrs. Merriweather sent over.
She reached for the second book Mrs. Merriweather sent over. As she started to read, Penelope felt her eyelids drooping. Her brain was full and whether she liked to admit it or not, her body was still recovering from an injury.
‘Maybe just a small nap,’ she decided.
Penelope stood. She looked at the time. “I made it to late afternoon at least,” she told herself. The fact that she hadn’t just gotten up to get something to eat and then gone right back to bed felt like a bit of a victory today.
Thinking of all the activity, Penelope couldn’t resist going back downstairs to double check the locks on the front door. She yawned widely as she descended the stairs.
‘Definite nap time,’ she decided. She crossed the first floor level and looked around. While she poked around on many of the upper floors, she had yet to really look into this floor. There were many cupboards concealing who knows what and many shelving units. As the front part of the space was set up to entertain visitors who weren’t welcomed deeper into the house, all the shelves containing items less public were facing the back half of the space.
‘Really need to figure out what is in the house at some point.’ It felt strange to be living in a house without knowing what else the house contained. ‘But I suppose people inherit houses all the time. Still, probably better figure it out before I go looking at the country house.’
That was a whole other kettle of fish.
“Once my arm is a better,” she told herself. “Then I can drive out. Maybe tomorrow I can poke around down here.”
She crossed the room as she moved towards the door, leaving the mysteries it contained for another day. When she reached the door, she saw movement outside on the sidewalk. She peered through the sidewalk to see a cab parked in front of the house. A woman in her forties was climbing out and the cab driver was extracting luggage from the trunk. The woman’s expression was tight and pulled inward creating a myriad of lines and creases. Penelope couldn’t tell if she was upset, concerned or angry.
The woman paid the cab driver who then got into his cab and drove off, leaving her with her pile of luggage. The woman looked at the pile and made some sort of strange hand motion over it. Penelope blinked in surprise as the pile of luggage levitated off the ground. She opened the gate to the house next to hers, where the Agent Johnson and the older woman so recently vacated.
Once the gate was open the luggage floated through the opening. The woman then turned to Penelope’s house and spotted her at the window.
“Ah good, you are home. A word if you wouldn’t mind,” she called.
Penelope thought about ignoring her but decided she was curious. Cautiously she opened the door.
“I won’t keep you long,” the woman said. “I am Delia Grantham. This is my house. I understand there have been some shenanigans in my absence?”
Penelope nodded.
Ten til Midnight 