Violet gasped and tossed aside her knitting when the doorbell rang, startling Calendula and making her sprint away. From under the coffee table, she—the cat, that is-- watched Violet do her own sprinting, and she was muttering something about ominous feelings and all her worrying being for nothing.
Violet rushed to the door, pulled it open and said, “Oh, Sophie, I’m so …” She stopped mid-sentence and blinked. “Simon…what…what are you doing here?”
“Hello, Violet,” Simon said, smiling at her. “Merry Christmas!”
She stood stunned as he embraced her warmly and kissed her cheek. She, on the other hand, wasn’t so delighted to see him. Oh, she loved the warm hug—you can never have too many of those--but it was so not what she had hoped for. No, not because she didn’t like Simon or anything like that. It had nothing to do with Victor either. She was just consumed with worry for Sophie. She just had an awful feeling something really bad was going to happen tonight and she was powerless to do anything. But maybe she was just being an over-protective mother and there was nothing to worry about?