The Faceless Old Woman who lived in Vansten Manor sat at her dressing table and cringed. It had been 10 days since she had seen Marcus, but she could hear him. She heard his bellows of rage, the uncontrollable anger, and the shattering of glass clearly through the thick doors of the Master bedroom. There had been absolutely no point in trying to reason with him since Patricia had been …. called. Marcus must have known this day would come, eventually. He must have rationally accepted at some point that the happiness he shared with his bride was temporary; a stolen season, warmed by love, that would have the end when ….
/No/ She shook herself and squared her shoulders. /I’m not going to think about that now./
There was a soft mummer from her bed. Little Marcus, her sweet Little Bird, was curled up in the nest she had made him of the white down comforter, and her fluffy white pillows. His sleeping face was smudged with chocolate, and cookie crumbles were peppered across the duvet. A halo of dark curls were plastered across his sleeping face; his daddy’s hair and fine dark eyelashes that, if he were awake, framed his mama’s emerald eyes.
There was a rumble from the west wing, followed by a howl of despair. Marcus curled his pudgy hands into fists and whimpered in his sleep. /Enough is enough!/ she thought with a snort, and cinched her silk dressing gown tighter. She bent and tucked Marcus in tighter, swept back his curls, and then turned on one elegant heel and marched out of her bedroom and down the marble halls.
When she reached the bedroom door she paused just long enough for the most recent sounds of destruction and anger to subside. She waited, counted to 10, and smoothed her hair into place.
Then she planted one elegant heel three inches into the oak of the door with an impressive roundhouse kick. “MARCUS TIBERIUS VANSTEN YOU OPEN THIS DOOR THIS INSTANT!” she roared and reset her stance to deliver a second kick with her opposite leg. “You have exactly 5 seconds to let me in or I will kick this damned door down! 4! You have a child downstairs who is just as confused and hurt as you are! 3! And you have not done one GD thing about it! 2! You giant, bubblering. manbaby!”
The sound of something heavy tipping over and splintering.
“1! What would Patricia say if she saw your baby boy crying himself to sleep because his mama and daddy were both gone?! You answer me that Marcus! What would she say?!”
The Faceless Old Woman cocked her hip to deliver another shattering kick when the doorknob slowly turned, and the door swung slowly open. It was only a few blessed inches, but it was enough of slice to let her see the total destruction of the room beyond. Marcus senior slump against the doorframe, and slowly slide into a defeated crouch on the floor.
“Oh Marcus Honey,” she whispered and slowly knelt to put her frail arms around his massive shaking shoulders. He buried his face into the rose scented folds of her robe and finally, finally after 10 days of rage, bargaining, and pleading, Marcus Julius Vansten allowed himself to weep. Weep in the soft circle of his Nana’s arms.
