A/N: Wait what? You've only waited how long? Oh believe me I have received those messages but combined with sports, surgery, and school work online up the wazoo and my mother's wedding coming up, compiled of my social butterfly tendencies and keeping in contact with my love while he's overseas for a few months more—it's been a whirlwind luvvies. But I know it's time to start writing out the next chapter when it starts to shape that perfect mold in my mind.
To at least hold you over here is the preview, and yes it shouldn't be more than a week for Chapter Three.
Enjoy!
CHAPTER THREE: Time
She could hear the sharp, distinct seconds reverberate in her head as the golden spindle ticked down the seconds. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Every niche of the grandfather clock seemed amplified as Jenny slouched against the couch across from the ornate antique found in a thrift store.
She'd found she particularly liked antiques. There was something about them, a story behind it's crafting. Jenny hadn't been disappointed. The shop, now closed, had been owned by an elderly woman...
Jenny was prepared to leave the quaint, hidden treasure she'd found nestled on the outskirts of town. She'd just finished paying for her trinket when she was stopped by the shops owner. The small, plump woman had hobbled over with her feathered cane, her graying hair pulled into a loose chignon that fit the ruffled frills of lace on her dress. Her appearance spoke of an era that had long passed, yet,there remained a youthful sparkle in her bright, green eyes that spoke of a former porcelain beauty. Each wrinkle foretold a story and along every laugh line etched around her mouth.
This woman had lived.
"Miss!" The little womans worn, wrinkled hands reached out, grasping Jenny's with a, surprisingly, strong grip. No doubt leftover from years of hard work and care put into her shop. A warm, sincere smile spread across the cracked, red lipstick lifting those rouged cheeks as she'd said, "I couldn't let you leave without saying that clock belonged to my dear late husband, Albert, God rest his soul." The older womans eyes twinkled with a wisdom that far surpassed Jennys own. "He'd say it was a reminder that time is so precious so treasure every second there is to this life." Unexpected tears filled her eyes then and it was clear her beloved was deeply missed. "Enjoy it to the fullest because we only get one..."
A week later the woman's obituary was in the newspaper: she was 75.
Despite the womans kind parting words, it was far from the reason that had Jenny as tight as a coiled spring. Her fingers remained wrapped around the crystal stem of the champagne glass she held like a vice, legs crossed on the faux rug of her living room floor. The uncorked wine bottle rested merely a few feet away, a reflecting off the glass coffee table.
Strands of hair had become frazzled from its earlier twisted updo, the cause of erratic fingers that had run through it one time too many in the last half hour. Jenny became more inebriated off the rich, desert wine, the stone fireplace hearth emulating off the fine crystal of a burgundy liquor from the fourth glass. Leaning in a drunken stupor to one side, Jenny once again pressed the black, bulbous replay button on her answering machine. Tilting her head back she listened as the static crackled through with an all too familiar voice.
"Jenny… um… hey. Look before you stop listening please just don't delete this until you hear me out, okay? I know I don't have the right to ask but, just, please. I was given this number by a source. Anyways, I am going to be moving down to Florida. The business is, is expanding, and my parents want me to run the new shop down there. Just… before I go I'd just i-if at all possible, would like to see you. Please, Thorny. I'd be up in the area tomorrow for my dad and would meet you at that park off main around noon... Anyways, hope to see you there. Oh, and this is Tom."
Beep.