Letter - 4

From Torg Adventure

The years between my last visit with Meg melted like vernal ice during our tea time discourse. I could discern from her smiling countenance that she felt the same way. We talked of the wild escapades of our youth, exploring the grounds and playing make-believe, as if they happened just a short season or two ago. When she told of the plans for the funeral, the mental lightness from the previous subjects lingered, making the conversation easier.

One bit of news darkened the room -- my cousin Phineas, Meg's brother, had died in January upon some exploration of old Persian ruins. This unfortunate event made Meg Ebenezer's heir. I had missed the news, because of that holiday you and I took to Fiorenza. Meg swiftly moved to different topics, and the buoyancy returned.

We had another day before the ceremony, but she had a secret she had to show me on the morrow. I could see that she struggled to not simply show me that instant, she was so thrilled. The rest of the guests were expected tomorrow after noon, and so we had until then to ourselves.

After tea, Meg had to go into town to finish arrangements with the undertaker, so she left in her own steam carriage and driver, smaller than the commercial one in which I arrived. I was left to my own devices until dinner.