Time and Again

Chapter 2 - Part 3: A Meeting

This is all a waste of time. I couldn't help feeling negative about the whole experience as I walked toward the door.

"Keep our secrets" was the phrase written across the bottom of the invitation. What secrets were the Andersons trying to keep? It seemed like an overly-hyped up, wild party with a bunch of angsty teenagers to me. Not exactly something that I couldn't get somewhere else. Shelley was constantly inviting me to parties with her beauty school friends. It wasn't my scene. Why did I expect this party to be any different?

The doors to the front hallway were partially open and I strode towards them, picking up my dress to avoid tripping up the stairs. Wouldn't that make a great exit?

My eyes struggled to adjust to the presence of the large amount of light streaming from the chandelier overhead after being in the midst of the dark and spastic, frenzied light show in the main hall. A couple pressed up against the wall to my right; the girl twisted her hand into the man's hair as they kissed in a feverish manner.

Ew.

I couldn't help but notice that one of the doors to my left - the ones I had noticed upon first entering - was ajar. Weird. An odd, bluish light filtered through the opening, inviting me closer. The whole party had been a bust. Shelley would be disappointed by the almost comedic lack of interesting details that I had to share. I looked towards the front door and the peaceful darkness that lay beyond. Surely I could summon a chauffeur to take me home right this instant. But, the idea of exploring the Anderson mansion was almost too fantastical to pass up.

Slipping over to the cracked door, I flipped a quick glance over my shoulder at the couple. With the knowledge that they were completely absorbed with each other and wouldn't notice the girl sneaking through the door opposite them, I entered.

I was in a long, dimly lit hallway lined with even more eerie portraits of ancient men that I'd seen covering the walls of the main hall. Stoic faces and beady eyes followed me as I silently padded down the hall. I reached out, hesitantly, and tried opening several doors. None of the cold, icy doorknobs opened under my soft touch. Behind me, a floorboard creaked and I jumped, startled. A mouse skittered across the floor, pausing for a few seconds to stare at me, and darted into a small hole in the floor. I felt jumpy as I reached out to try to open the second to last door on the hallway. Half expecting it to be locked like the others, I was surprised when it gave with an audible groan.

Curiously, a small lamp shed a comfortable, orange-tinted light on the rest of the room. Books lined the walls of the rectangular room, the air full with the sweet, musty smell of literature. Several armchairs littered the room, all facing different directions. Three were grouped together in the center of the room and the last was facing what appeared to be a ancient fireplace. I sighed and walked up to the nearest shelf heavy with books. I brushed the colorful spines with my fingers. Shelley would have loved to see this room. Liam, too.

I grabbed a novel at random and opened it, thumbing to the publication information. I gasped when my gaze landed on the date published: 1905. A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. And it was a first edition!

The room practically screamed wealth.

A tall, gold leafed mirror was positioned near a break in the bookshelves. I stared at my reflection and meticulously pushed a few hairs back in place. I'd always loved my curly hair and the way it framed my thin, oval-shaped face. I smoothed my hair back and pinched my cheeks to bring some color into them.

A chair scraped behind me and I swung around - the first edition flew out of my hand, knocking into a glass container of a purplish liquid. The vase tipped over and fell to the ground with a crash as glass scattered upon the gleaming stone floor.

I bent to pick up the sopping wet book, horrified that I'd destroyed it, when a deep voice stopped me.

"Don't move." I didn't dare move. I didn't dare look up. Shiny black shoes filled my vision as I leaned forward, frozen, my arm outstretched, reaching for the book. "You'll cut yourself."

I stood up, quickly placing my hand on the table beside me for balance. The table leaned precariously with the weight I pressed on it and I squeezed my eyes shut, tightly, as I waited for the loud crash that would surely follow. It never came.

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," I berated myself, silently.

Opening my eyes, I noticed that the table had been righted. A hand steadied the table and I followed the curve of the person's arm until my eyes locked onto a pair of honey brown eyes. My eyes wandered over the thin shape of his lips and his angular jawline. His hair looked like it had been styled recently, but it had fallen into disarray, a few pieces of shocking black hair falling across his forehead. A small quirky grin replaced his worried expression as he noticed me studying him. I looked away quickly, color darkening my cheeks.

Barrett.

"I am so, so, so sorry. I didn't see you and I was just so surprised," I whispered, avoiding his eyes. Guilt weighed my whole body down as I bent to retrieve the book. His hand caught my wrist so suddenly I gasped. I straightened, my arm outstretched between us.

"I asked for you not to move," he grinned. His grip lessened on my wrist. "Forget about the book."

"But-but it was a first edition. It was-" I said, struggling to find words. He had to know the value of the book that I'd just ruined.

He laughed darkly, the sound of it boomed in the small space. "Priceless?"

"Yes..."

"It's not a big deal. We'll just get another." He let go of my wrist. I tried to close my open mouth. We'll just get another? "Here, let's just focus on getting you out of here unscathed. Step carefully." He headed for the door, but I couldn't help looking around at the mess I had caused. I felt so embarassed. The birthday boy had just witnessed my utterly clumsy side.Oh, Shelley would definitely get a kick out of this. Bits of glass covered the door and the apparently replaceable first edition was soaked with wine.

I wrinkled my nose at the strong, pungent odor.

"Are you coming?" He waited at the door.

"But - the mess," I gestured to the shattered pieces everywhere.

"Someone will clean it up." He held a hand out and waved me closer. I stepped cautiously over the sad-looking novel. The wine crawled over the floor at a sluggish pace as it seeped out of the piece of literature, giving the book the distinct appearance that it was bleeding. Maybe it was. I followed him out the door and into the hallway.

He walked towards the front hall with a sure gait while I struggled to keep up with him.

He glanced over his shoulder and cleared his throat. "I don't believe I grabbed your name."

"Grace," I replied, shyly. I felt so out of my element at the moment. Every portrait seemed to stare down at me with judgemental eyes. I tried to keep my eyes on his broad back as we neared the end of the hall.

"My name is Barrett. The pleasure is all mine," he said. Even though I couldn't see his face, I could hear the hint of a smile in his tone.

Shelley would not believe this. She'd never believe this.