"I think so," Rose said.
"Keep the curtain closed tight and forget about him." I said. "Okay. Thanks, everyone," she replied in a small voice. We started out, closing the door softly behind us.
"He won't be back. That's for sure, isn't it?" I asked Cinnamon. She stood there, her eves darkening with thought.
"I don't know. There is something very odd about all this. Look at the hour," she said, holding up her watch. It was close to midnight. "He doesn't live here. right? Why would he be here so late and how would he explain all this to Madame Senetsky?"
"What are you saving?" Ice asked. "That's his ascot you have hidden in your room, isn't it?"
"Yes, but..."
"But what?" I asked her.
She put her finger to her lips so I would speak more softly. "Whoever that was wasn't wearing any shoes," she said.
"What?" Ice asked.
"He was barefoot," Cinnamon insisted. "I saw bare feet flash against the metal steps."
We were all quiet.
"Why would he be barefoot?" Ice finally voiced.
"And the feet," Cinnamon said.
"What about them?" She turned to me.
"They looked...small."
"You mean it was a child?" Ice asked.
"I don't know what it was, who it was. I mean."
"What the hell is going on out here?" we heard, and saw Howard in his doorway. "You're keeping me up." He was standing in his pajamas. "What are you doing? Planning your assassinations again?"
"We're not doing anything exciting. Howard," Cinnamon said. "Rose had a nightmare."
"Really? Must have been the wine."
"Right," Cinnamon said.
"Howard." I said.
"What?"
"Your barn door is open," I said. remembering Uncle Peter's sense of humor.
"What?" He grimaced.
"And the cow is about to leave."
He looked down at his pajama pants and quickly closed the door.
How good it felt to laugh.
Even if it was only for a few seconds.
6 Looking for Answers