Margo Edith Agnes Novels & Stories

Madame Agnes saw through Margret's thoughts. Margret nodded numbly, the presence of Madame Agnes was suffocating, she felt powerless and weak before her. "Well, I am sorry the way you are brought here, I don't usually invite guests that way, but you are special, do you know me?" Madame Agnes asked with a soft tone. Margret was startled, she had never met someone like her before "I am Agnes of the White family" Margret eyes widened in shock after hearing the woman introduce herself, who in Houston had not heard of the matriarch of the White family.

"Thank you, Peter!" "Oh, wait, there’s something I need to do first…" "What is it?" Peter led Celeste to the backyard facing the sea. He picked some flowers from the garden and searched for the gravestone. Theodore had told him that Agnes had passed away a few years after Peter was officially declared dead. Her remains rested here, in the garden of the place that had been his home for years. "Here she is… Agnes, my grumpy old lady." "What?" "She was my housekeeper, and sometimes, she acted like my mother."

Her asymmetrical face and striking resemblance made me realize that she might just be related to the lady of such grace. “Is she not lovely?” Agnes’ voice caught my attention. “Who?” I turned to face her, my face crumpled in confusion. “Ingrid, the sister of Meredith.” Agnes cooed, gazing upon the pair with adoration. I blinked at Agnes, shifting my focus between her and the pair. How come she knew them while I had no idea who they were? I’d never set my eyes on them in my entire life. “Who is Ingrid?” I asked Agnes who couldn’t stop stalking the woman with her eyes.

Thaddeus walked through its doors, past a line of ragged rejects standing in line to be catered to and went further into the building in search of Sister Agnes. Sister Agnes was a spry woman in her late seventies who had been caring for the lost and downtrodden since Christ gave up carpentry. She had lived the life of a celibate, having devoted her years towards uplifting the Hermit House and all it entailed. Thaddeus had known her since he was a pup and always she looked forward to his visits, especially when it concerned missing persons.

Sarah contributed in saying. "Nice enough for a planned leisure in the comfort of your home." Agnes said, deciding to go on a nicer route. "Glad to see y'all are having fun making jest of my clothes. Guess what." Ethel raised a middle finger at them. "I don't give a rat's ass care." Agnes placed a hand over mouth and let out a soft gasp. Her eyes widened in horror. Doris turned to Agnes and pointed to her. "Told you you shouldn't have invited that pest Morrison to bingo."

"Skylar. I love you. Eight in the morning is something I will do for you specifically and for no one else alive." "I know and I'm grateful." I smiled. "We'll have good coffee. And real food, not studio food." "Define real food. Sky" "Mara you already know" "I'm asking because your definition and mine have historically differed." "There will be a full breakfast spread. Agnes is coming to help set up." This landed visibly well. "Agnes makes those little egg things," Mara said. "She does." "The ones with the herbs on top." "Yes." "Then I'll be there at seven fifty-five." She put her phone away with the decisiveness of a negotiation concluded. "Is there anything else you need from me before the

The moment Margo’s eyes met Edmund's, they never wavered, not until the reception when Edmund had the chance to talk to her after Lake left with Coco. “Have you been in this world? I've never met a woman like you,” Edmund said, amazed by the sight of the dazzling woman before him, surprised that she was a friend of Zora's yet he had never met her before. “I have seen you on TV, but you look better in person than on screen,” Margo smiled shyly and replied.

Found the sketch. Stopped. The face was familiar. “English Lit. Higgins,” Margo said days ago as they stood in front of the missing person flyer. “She literally sat next to you for three semesters. Every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday.” Small eyes set in a plain face. Chunky, thick hair sweeping thin eyebrows to hang, like curtains, against her cheeks before resting, heavy and dark, on her narrow shoulders. A t-shirt billowing over a non-existent bosom, pale arms shooting from the short sleeves like birch twigs.

"I told him yes. He was quiet for a moment. And then he said he would confirm everything in person tomorrow." I look at Adrian. He looks at me. "It was Margaret," I say quietly. "Yes," he says. "It was always Margaret." The kitchen is very quiet. Margaret, who kept documents for twenty-three years. Who stayed on the board because Edward's father asked her to and she believed institutions properly run were worth protecting. Who was put in a clinic for four years because Richard knew what she carried. Who walked into that courtroom and said what needed to be said without rehearsing a word of it.

The two women had known each other since they were children, playing on the beaches and dunes as WWII bombers and fighter planes courted each other high in the sky. Agnes had been proprietor at the town library for most of her life. In fact, most townsfolk could not remember a time when Agnes hadn’t been the town librarian. She was a slim, wiry woman with a thin nose and grey hair that always seemed to be pulled up into a bun. A small, blue bookies pen was rammed behind her left ear. Rain or shine, she wore a mauve body warmer, but Agnes was known for her malfunctioning hearing aid, an archaic device that often picked up more than the conversations of those about her. Rumour had it that on m