Chapter 14
Estelle asked to see Agnes six months later.
Agnes said no.
Then nine months.
No.
One year.
Maybe.
They met in the new bakery before opening.
I was not there.
Later Agnes told me because she enjoys reporting uncomfortable things.
Estelle apologized.
Not for “what happened.”
Specific.
“For calling your recipes burnt.”
“For letting Julian convince me destroying your bakery was manageable.”
“For knowing a fire would happen and caring more about the wedding than your home.”
More.
“For saying you were supposed to be out.”
There.
Agnes asked:
“Did you want me dead?”
“No.”
“Did you accept something that could have killed me?”
Estelle cried.
“Yes.”
That distinction mattered.
Intent does not erase foreseeable danger.
Agnes did not forgive her that morning.
She gave her coffee.
Apparently that was different.
Estelle began working outside Monroe business.
Event development.
Small company.
No Kingsley money.
No Julian.
Interesting.
She had spent years fearing becoming ornamental inside my world.
Then helped build a structure where men would have made her ornamental anyway.
Now she was building something entirely her own.
I respected that from distance.
Did not reopen the relationship.
Healing is not an audition for restored access.
Then Agnes asked me:
“Still love her?”
I glared.
She waited.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I frowned.
“Good?”
“Means you’re not lying to yourself.”
Then she kneaded dough.
“Love her somewhere else.”
May you like
Brutal woman.
Accurate.
