Wisps of her black hair escaped from her ribbon as she gazed at the serene waters of Lake Lachrymose. Though, Violet Baudelaire was free of horrors of Count Olaf, she still felt hollow inside. It wasn't the same living without Mum and Dad. She stared down at the X beams, supporting the deck. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, more followed as she remembered Quigley. Quigley. That night, when she was about to rescue Sunny, Violet found out who she was meant to be with for life.
Leaning against the barrier, she watched Klaus tutor Sunny through the wide window. Five years ago, she and her siblings were trying to decode Aunt Josephine's message. That image of Klaus flipping through the atlas, while Sunny watched over his shoulder, saddened her more.
Violet pulled the solid door open, and made way through the various rooms of their humble manor, to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. Staring at her faint reflection off the cream linoleum floor, she remembered eating the cold cucumber soup that Aunt Josephine gave them. It was so cold, for her deceased Aunt's fear of using electricity.
As Violet took out a teacup from their china cupboard, a deep yet comforting male voice startled her. "Violet."
"Klaus?" she said, uncertainly. It sure didn't sound like Klaus, but he was the only male in the house.
She felt two strong arms around her waist, and a gentle, warm blow against the back of her neck. "Guess again," said the voice.
Violet turned around, and found herself looking into familiar eyes. But who? She asked herself. The memory of sitting on the cold snow, and staring into those same eyes, told her exactly who. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she planted a delicate kiss on his lips.
An enlightening feeling rushed through her. She was happy. Truly happy. She forgot about her melancholy and enjoyed the moments when her lips were locked with the young man in front her. "Quigley," she breathed. "What, how—"
"There is something I give you," said Quigley, quietly. "And it's something I should've given you that afternoon on the Slippery Slope."
He pulled out a small maroon velvet box out of his trouser pocket. He opened it and went down one knee. "Violet Baudelaire, will you marry me?"