<—Part 6
You can do this, girl. Amy took a few short, deep breaths, standing before the backroom. Cradled in her arms was the worn leather bound journal she’d ferreted away from Pompeii’s Parlor. It had become a permanent accessory of sorts. She took it with her, and reread the passages, trying to understand the two long dead girls. Trying to understand the haunting. She could have read ahead, but she felt like it would break the magic, if she did.
Amy had a ritual; each day she crossed the tapestried barrier into the Parlor, she allowed herself to read one or two new passages. It felt more authentic, like she was freshly visiting dear friends, rather than reading the memories of a dead girl.
That wasn’t the part that had her gut wound up tighter than a nervous cat. She caught a glimpse of cropped blonde locks, shining in the glare of the overhead light. Violet was signing in to work, probably reviewing her schedule. Amy hadn’t been able to make eye contact with Violet since the incident. She’d lost her best friend—and the easy cheer of her coworkers—all in one horrible day.
Pulling the journal tighter to her chest, she positioned herself a few feet in front of the doorway and waited for Violet to emerge from the room. Her stomach roiled uneasily, but she forced herself to keep her head up. If she made eye contact, Violet might actually stay long enough for her to ask for her former friend’s help.
Equal parts misery and hopefulness, Amy rocked nervously on her toes, coming to an abrupt stop when Violet stepped out of the backroom. Hesitant curiosity flickered for a moment before the tinkling of chimes at the door announced the entrance of a customer. Violet looked passed Amy to the front of the store, nodded awkwardly, and brushed past her.
Rejection weighed heavy, and Amy let out a shaky breath, her shoulders hunching inward. Crapsticks. So much for that. Not that she blamed Vi at all.
She half-turned and watched as Violet greeted one of the regulars with a smile. She supposed this meant she could either try again, or just proceed with her plan, solo.
Not bothering to check her schedule, she let out another breath, turned away from the bustle of the store, and ducked into the tapestried passage to Pompeii’s Parlor. If Vi was on shift, Amy was probably scheduled for clean-up anyway.