“That’s not the problem really,” Bonnie dithered. “It’s that…Tobias is here, too, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s here. He’s always here.” Vi deflated in disgust; domestic drama once again rearing its ugly head. “You should talk to your husband,” she groused. Tobias watched the exchange in silence, sorrow deepening the haze of his form from white to gray.
Bonnie sighed. “Yes, I probably should. It’s just…Oh it’s selfish. I shouldn’t even think such a thing.”
“Well now I’m curious,” she replied, sitting forward. “Though frankly, I doubt anything you have to admit will be much of a scandal after my little confession.”
The widow hesitated, chewing over her words with her next serving of brie. “If it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, it should also be wrong to be feel cross with him.”
“Should and shouldn’t, right and wrong? That sounds an awful lot like religion.” Vi pulled a face. “I don’t really think in those terms, myself. As you can imagine, my line of work didn’t exactly lend itself to a ‘godly’ state of mind. What I do know is that if it were me, I’d rather stop being angry. Not for my soul, but for my own peace of mind.”
Peter’s mumble broke into the conversation. “You’re one to talk.”
“I came all the way out here to escape my demons,” she reminded him pointedly. “They simply found their way to my doorstep again.”
Phoebe Darqueling 