Angie of the Garden

Chapter Eleven-2

"I've been very inattentive lately," he conceded. "I'm sorry, my love. I kept meaning to have it done, but there have been so many things on my mind."

Her response was interrupted by Annabelle suddenly entering the room. She was holding up the sheet from her bed, displaying the hole in the middle of it to her parents.

"Look. Holy sheet!" she said while barely containing her laughter.

Hollis struggled to do the same, while Olivia gave her daughter a stern look in response to her remark.

"That is not a very nice expression, young lady," she informed Annabelle.
"What do you mean?" Belle replied innocently.
"You know exactly what I mean. I know the vulgar expression you were thinking
of. Please have Esmeralda put a new sheet on your bed. And kindly refrain from using such objectionable language in my presence."
Annabelle left the room. Hollis was now the object of Olivia's scorn.
"The least you could have done is support me!"
"She's growing up, love. And I thought it was clever. But I'll have a talk with her
if you'd like."

Olivia answered with her eyes. Hollis walked up the long winding staircase to speak with Belle. He then walked through a narrow hallway, which when his daughter was younger, echoed with the sweet laughter peculiar to little girls. The entrance to Belle's room and the doorways of the ones next to it were reached by climbing a narrow staircase with only three steps. A wooden owl, or as she had referred to it years ago a wise old towl, sat on the polished oak banister at the end of the stairs. The door to his daughter's room was slightly ajar. He could hear her telephone conversation with Celia.

"It's like they're too involved with their lives to bother with me. Olivia is always hanging around with that creep from Hollywood. I don't know what they're doing together."

Hollis cringed at his daughter's suspicions. That was not something a girl her age should have to deal with. He could not hear her friend's response, yet knew it was probably not very encouraging.

"I know," Belle replied. "And Hollis is in his own little world. He never remembers a thing he tells me. He's become a stranger. They're both forgetting the most important thing in their lives-me! Maybe Uncle Loser will adopt me. You know only my grandparents from Hollis' side stayed together. And they died young. So it looks like I'll either lose my parents through a divorce or an early death. But either way I'll lose them."

Hollis felt as though he had betrayed her. For all his concern about the state of mind of his patients the plight of his own flesh and blood had managed to elude him for a considerable time. Belle was the most precious thing in his life. Hollis would not forget that again. He waited for several moments after her conversation ended before knocking on the door.

"Hello Belle," he said after having been invited in.
"I'm sorry about before."
"Well, between you and me, I didn't think it was so out of line. But do try and consider the feelings of your mother."
"That would make one of us," she replied with a dramatic jerk of her chin.
"You're always too busy for mother, or me."

Hollis sat down on the bed next to her.

"Remember when you were my little ragamuffin?" he asked with a sentimental smile.
Annabelle responded in kind at first, for the times she spent as a child romping with her father were very dear to her. Then the realization that she had grown far beyond that little girl made Belle roll her eyes towards the ceiling.
"Your mom is just a little uptight at the moment. She has a lot of things on her mind."
"Like who?"
"If you're implying that Harley Fox is anything but a business matter to her you're sadly mistaken," Hollis said firmly. "I know these things."

Annabelle felt she had reached a line which should not be crossed. She did not broach the subject again.

"And I know I've been distracted," Hollis conceded. "But I'll do better. I know it's hard to be your age."

Annabelle accepted his embrace. No matter how old she became, Hollis's daughter could always be a child once more while in his arms. Of course she would never admit that to her father.

"I want a dog," Annabelle announced after Hollis released her.
"That shouldn't be a problem. You're certainly old enough to be responsible for one."
"I didn't say I wanted to be responsible for it," she replied. "I just want a dog. Whatever happened to the one called Mr. Peepers?"
"You were five years old when we bought you that poodle. As I remember the chef ran out of food one night and served him for dinner."
"Daddy! That's horrible."
"I agree. One should never serve poodle for dinner. Perhaps for breakfast or lunch, but never for dinner."

Hollis hugged his daughter once more.

"I'll be more careful when I'm joking around, Dad," she told him as he walked towards the door.
"And I'll do a better job of paying attention. Did you know there's a hole in the sheet on your bed? I just noticed that."

They shared a laugh before saying goodnight. Hollis walked down the stairs and told his wife about Annabelle's request immediately.
A week passed and Gregory Hill sat in Hollis' office once more. The psychiatrist asked him to resume his story about Avalor. The detective did so enthusiastically. He described her first visit to his apartment.

"This is a very nice place," she remarked after examining the contents of the detective's home.
"You looked at the microwave as though it was an antique," Hill observed.
"I've heard of these before, but I can't remember when or where. What does the microwave do again?"
"It heats up food. What do you people use to do that? Do you have x ray vision?"
"No, not quite," Avalor replied with a laugh. "We use an air circulator to cook with."
"What's that?"
"It's a device that excites the molecules in the air until they produce the heat required for the job," she explained.
"What does it look like?"
"I can't go into that. In fact I've said too much already."

Gregory offered her a cup of tea and she accepted. They sat at his kitchen table, talking about their respective lives. Avalor lived with her daughter. Her husband was no longer a part of the family.

"What happened to him?" he asked his guest.
"I'd rather not say. Now you tell me about yourself."
"Well, there really isn't much to talk about. I'm a detective in the New York City
Police Department."
"A detective? Yes, I've heard of those, too. What do you do?"

Gregory gave her an incredulous look.

"I investigate crimes. You've heard of those, haven't you?"

Avalor examined her host carefully. She was obviously making a very important decision. After a very long pause she finally spoke.

"I don't know why I'm being so open with you. I just hope it doesn't come back to haunt me. But here it goes. You see, in our time, there's very little use for detectives. There's not much in the way of crime, and the ones that are committed tend to be petty in nature."
"Has everyone suddenly become honest?"