Amanda made it through the house without incident. At the door to Mr. Turner’s room, she left her basket on the floor. And she crept inside. To her chagrin, Mr. Turner was sitting at the desk to her right between the door and the balcony.
She immediately pretended not to see him and started towards the bathroom. But he called her name. “Amanda!” She froze and stood still.
She heard noises like he was standing up in his voice came closer as he spoke. “I’ve been waiting for you. How are your fingers?” He was standing next to her now, and she did not want to look up at him. So she held up her hand instead.
Mr. Turner touched her hands and took off the few Band-Aids that had not fallen off in the shower. “They look good. Do they feel better?” He asked.
“Yes,” Amanda said to the floor.
Mr. Turner still had her hand, her right hand. And he had it in both of his hands. “Will you join me tomorrow for the lunch meal? I know you chose tomorrow as your day off.”
Amanda was still looking at the floor. But she told his feet, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Listen, I don’t owe my wife anything. At this point, it is a loveless marriage. And if she fires you, I will hire you as my secretary. This dwelling is still mine, and it is still my money used in this household. Sure, she has some money of her own. But this house is in my name. She would have to kill me to take it from me. I would never sign it over to her. I have been contemplating a divorce and have consulted a lawyer. I need to have the papers drawn up and signed.” Mr. Turner was inching in front of Amanda. And now his feet in sandals were in her line of sight.
Spookychild’s writings 
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