Samantha Tracie Morrison-Lettson and the Conundrum
Kathleen sat at the edge of an antique chaise, the fabric soft and inviting, but the splendor of it making her feel uncomfortable, like her tea might spill at any moment of its own accord.
The parlor was definitely that of a Morrison family member. It was vast and stifling at the same time, with its large open windows and mounds of austere opulence.
She had just gotten approval for the crew to enter Willow Shore. Samantha Tracie didn't give permission with ease, but Kathleen did not have to struggle hard for it either.
Kathleen sat in the vast room feeling oddly chilled and ready for bed. It seemed that she would continually be thoroughly tested.
Samantha Tracie smiled at her. Cold tea set before her, her swollen pregnant belly gently rose and fell. Her words were polite, but had a condescending edge to them.
"Ms. Woodfield, you came to my home wanting access to my family's property, and now you have questions focused on our private matters.
"My family will not sell the property."
Kathleen frowned, her attention focused on Mrs. Morrison-Lettson even as she made note of another distant clock chiming the hour. 'Was there a clock chiming the hour every fifteen minutes in this house?'
"Excuse me, Mrs. Morrison-Lettson, if the family will not sell, why would you give us access to the property**?**"
The woman shrugged, a hand absentmindedly moving protectively to her pregnant belly. She smiled softly.
"Every generation of Morrison shouldn't be cursed. It is time that place left our possession." She shrugged again; it was an odd, fluid thing that seemed to belong in royal audience chambers.
"I will admit, only Adam can truly give permission for the sale. My line just has equal access to the property."
Samantha looked to Kathleen for a long moment. The silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Kathleen did not want to avert her eyes, so she sat and watched the woman.
Slowly Samantha Morrison-Lettson blinked and then looked away.
Kathleen took the time and looked away as well, her eyes going wide as they fell on a mirror beside her. The glass was blue and sparkling, and words had condensed on the surface, the edges of each letter running down the glass.
It took her mind a long while to process what she read.
"Elias just wants to be happy."
Kathleen blinked several times, her throat dry. She slowly turned back to Samantha Morrison-Lettson to see the middle-aged woman staring at her with a slight, unassuming smile.
The sight of her made Kathleen jump and she instantly looked down to see if she spilled tea from her empty cup.
Samantha did the same. "Don't worry. My girl can clean anything. Oh… You didn't spill anything. Would you like more tea?"
She picked up a small bell and rang it softly. A woman was in the room in the next breath. Kathleen could not find her voice to refuse the second cup.
Words flew from her mouth. "Can I please use your restroom, Mrs. Morrison-Lettson?"
"Of course you can. Steph, show Ms. Woodfield to the blue restroom, please." She smiled broadly at Kathleen. "She will be more comfortable in that one."
"Yes, Mrs. Morrison-Lettson."
Kathleen entered the restroom, completely ignoring the opulence of the room. She tried to calm her breathing, her mind focused on the name, 'Elias'. Was he another missing boy? She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.
When she left here she was going to recommend ending this project. She only had a quarter the information she sought, and now she found out the family would most likely never sell.
She did not want to think of the other reasons she had to walk away from all this.
She washed her face and stood straight up, refusing to open her eyes. The bathroom had turned wintery cold and there was a sound of soft crying.
Kathleen whimpered when something like ice brushed against her cheek and the smell of damp earth and mint assaulted her nose.
It began in her right ear.
"Elias only wants to be happy." An icy breath brushed against her neck.
Her left ear.
"Why shouldn't he be happy?"
The room became colder and Kathleen began to breathe harder and harder.
Then directly in front of her—somehow.
"He deserves to be happy."
Cold loamy-minty breath hit her face.
"I want him to be happy."
And then, Kathleen was thrown to the ground in a torrent of violence as the voice became loud, demanding, and urgent.
"DON'T TAKE HIS HAPPINESS AWAY!"
She screamed, her eyes still tight, her hands over her ears, and her face pressed to the pristine bathroom floor. The next thing she knew someone was shaking the restroom doorknob and she heard Steph asking her if she was okay.
Kathleen stood and looked about the room, nothing was out of place. She looked at herself in the mirror. Steph knocked again.
Kathleen heard her hoarse voice answer. "I am fine. I will be right out."
In the next five minutes she again sat in front of Mrs. Morrison-Lettson, her face blank, her complexion pale.
Samantha Tracie Morrison-Lettson looked at her calmly for a long while, then she took a large, heavy crystal water glass.
"Have some water, Ms. Woodfield. My Aunt Margaret can be rather unnerving."
She picked up another crystal glass, her expensive rings clanking against it in an odd melodious way.
Kathleen's eyes refocused as she absently took the water and registered the woman's words. Samantha Tracie Morrison-Lettson smiled at her regally, sipped a drink for the first time Kathleen had been there, then sat back in her seat. Her eyes never leaving Kathleen.
"You really should tell your people to forget about Willow Shore. There is a saying in our family.
"'The blue fog consumes all.'
"By the time you find out what that means…"
She took another sip of water, ran her tongue over her red-painted lips, and slightly cocked her head.
"… It's too late."