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Instead of moving into her bedroom, she headed up to the rooftop deck where the pool was. She stared out over the vast expanse of desert to her left and houses to her right. In the distance, the ocean glinted.
She knew she was being silly. She had no right to feel sorry for herself.
“You’re alive. You’re healthy . . . sort of. And you have a job. So stop being a baby and feeling sorry for yourself.”
After her pep talk, she tried to meditate, but her brain wouldn’t shut up. Deciding she just needed a cup of tea and a biscuit, she headed down the stairs.
A noise from her uncle’s room made her stop in her tracks.
Was this what had been pushing at her? Why hadn’t she thought to check on her uncle?
Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. “Uncle Willy?”
There was no reply. Shoot. Shoot.
What if he was hurt? Upset?
She knocked louder. “Uncle Willy? Can I come in?”
Still nothing. She pressed her ear to the door. But these stupid doors were thick and well-made.
Why did they have to be of such good quality? What was wrong with doors that were so flimsy you could make a hole in them with one good kick?
“I’m coming in, Uncle Willy!” she called out.
Please don’t be naked. Please don’t be naked.
Cracking open the door, she spotted him. Fully clothed.
There was a God.
But her relief immediately turned to worry as she watched him pace up and down the room. He looked agitated. His blond-gray hair was standing on end and he was muttering to himself.
Bollocks.
Not good.
A knot tightened in her stomach as she moved into the room. Anxiety had her wishing that she’d brought in some moral support.
She could really use Ziggy right now. She’d been trying to wean herself off needing him so much.
It wasn’t really working, though.
“Uncle Willy?” she called out.
He turned to her, his eyes wild. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
Monkeyballs.
Why had she let him go to his old house today? What had she been thinking? Of course he was going to be upset.
“Uncle Willy, it’s me. It’s Maggie.”
“I don’t know a Maggie!”
“I’m your niece. Remember? I’m Heather’s daughter. Your sister?”
This was a risk. Sometimes, reminding him of who she was helped calm him down. He would come back into himself.
