Timothy had listened to the conclusion of Ginger and Mary’s argument with a growing sense of unease.
There’s too much anger on the one side and far too much reaction on the other. It’s a recipe for disaster.
Anna had said nothing in a while. She seemed lost in her own world. Timothy, with the initial effects of the explosions and the discovery of the corpses wearing off, needed something to do. He wandered off toward his laptop, still resting where he left it on one of the two unoccupied tables.
Fried. That’s not good. At least, I have backups.
He got up to wander again, happening to catch Ginger’s eye in passing. Arms crossed and gaze narrowed, she seethed so much he almost expected to see smoke come out of her ears. Timothy gave her a wide berth.
Fabian beckoned for him to join Renee and himself, his deep voice quiet. “I believe we need some form of entertainment. Renee disagrees.”
Timothy frowned. “Entertainment?”
“Yes. Some people,” he waved in Mary’s direction, “need distraction from their current circumstances.”
Timothy looked at the tall blonde beside Fabian. “You don’t agree?”
“I-I think it will depend on what he means by entertainment.”
“Ideally, we could have a movie to pass the time.” Fabian folded his hands on the table.
“I think that would add unnecessary chaos and would cause us to be less vigilant.” Renee shrugged, brushing a hand across her stomach. “We are in the presence of a murderer, after all.”
“Possibly.” Fabian smiled. “As we have no means to play a movie anyhow, I suppose the question is moot.”
“Do you have other ideas for entertainment?” Timothy sat down backwards on a chair.
“Do I have other ideas for entertainment? No.” Fabian shook his head rather sadly. “I had hoped that, perhaps, you might.”
“I suppose that something interactive might keep us cognizant of our surroundings, while affording a distraction from our circumstances.”
“If one could come up with something interactive, that isn’t a party game that no one is up for playing.” Fabian steepled his fingertips, looking over them at Timothy.
Timothy looked around, hoping for inspiration. A book on the floor near the counter caught his eye. He jumped for it.
“That’s mine.” If her tone could be trusted, Kimberly didn’t care much that she claimed ownership.
“May we use it?”
“Be my guest.”
“What do you have in mind?” Fabian deepened the pressure on his fingers.
Timothy turned the book over in his hands. 4:50 from Paddington. He hadn’t read that particular Agatha Christie book, but at least he recognized the author. He’d try it.
“My sisters and I used to read a book by turns.” He resumed his seat, still holding the book. “Everyone sits together, each taking turns to read, say, ten minutes at a time.”
“Not everyone is going to want to read aloud.” Renee rubbed her stomach.
“Possibly not. Or possibly everyone will be so happy for something to do that they’ll do it anyway.” He smiled to try to soften what might come off as harsh.
Renee shrugged.
Fabian reached for the book, looking it over. “So, we read a fictional murder mystery – while we live through a real murder mystery?”
Timothy cocked an eyebrow. “I suppose, yes. Do you have a better idea?”
“No, actually. The idea is intriguing. Hearing Mary Dill, for instance, attempt to voice a rational character should be fascinating.”
Timothy paused, trying to picture Mary calmly reading about a murder. He failed. Maybe we’ll be proven wrong. Maybe it will somehow relax her. He heard the woman’s voice rise in excited conversation with Kimberly a few feet away. Maybe.
Fabian took it upon himself to get the five women to join them. Eddie, he assumed, would join them when through with his interview. Adrian and Xavier, of course, wouldn’t join them; they were busy. And, if they interviewed everyone, they would lose a reader every little bit, but they could manage it. To Timothy’s surprise, no one balked.
Fabian set to moving two of the round tables close together, surrounding them with chairs. He gathered everyone, assigning seats that kept Mary between himself and Kimberly. Timothy saw Ginger watching the proceedings from a distance, her arms crossed.
He hesitated. He didn’t want to engage Ginger in conversation. He had reasons for avoiding her. He saw her glare, then sighed.
Sometimes, loving your neighbor means talking to the person that you usually do your best to avoid. He sighed again, but went toward her.
“Are you planning to join us?”
She turned her glare toward him, but when she recognized him, her face softened a little bit. “What?”
“Are you going to join us for the reading?”
She shrugged, arms still crossed. “I said that I would.”
“You’re not going to do it from where you’re standing, are you?”
“If it means that I don’t have to sit anywhere near Mary Dill, I will. I’m quite out of all patience with the woman!”
Timothy held back his laugh, looking toward the tables. “I think you’re safe. I think Fabian is putting you next to himself and an empty seat. Probably for Eddie. Mary is on his other side, so you don’t have to talk to her.”
Ginger dropped her arms. “I’m coming.”
Timothy nodded with a smile. “That’s the spirit. This should be interesting.”
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Rebekah Ryberg nee Jones, is first and foremost a follower of the Living God. She started writing as a little girl, seeking to glorify the Lord with her books and stories…