The Engagement

"Just so you know, I never thought we'd be fangirling over our own grandmother," Violet said to Valerie. "Not in my twenty years of existence, no."

Valerie snorted. "You've read like five of the stories she had written so far and flew all the way to meet her to do that." They had tried in vain to get more clues about their grandmother and the mysteries

that surrounded her from the stories she had painstakingly written by hand, but nothing had been greatly revealing as the third book.

Her twin shook her head in disbelief. "It is year 2089 and we're here walking toward our grandparents' house just a week after we got trapped in their cabin. And I am telling you, Val, that I have a ton of questions to ask our grandmother, most of them controversial. I am not going home without the answers." They had been walking down the pathway that led to the stone house that had been their grandparents' since they could remember.

The house was not one they were used to. It had a porch and was not located inside a tall building with walls of glass. It was among the rarest of its kind in the surrounding towns and their grandparents loved it. So did the neighbors who chose to live their lives the way they did many years past. The twins referred to the small town as the old people neighborhood when they were younger and even until now.

"It was a fun trip though," Valerie said.

"Don't start talking about my friends, please," Violet said as they climbed the stairs to the front porch of the stone house, carrying a luggage each.

Valerie shrugged. They stopped outside the door and both assessed each other. Black hair, blue eyes, light dresses and sandals-just how their grandmother would love it, they both thought as they smiled and turned to face the door.

Violet reached out to scan her finger on the monitor by the door. The monitor sounded an error and it said, "Access expired."

"You do it," she said to Valerie who did as told. The monitor did

the same thing.

They gaped in disbelief. "I can't believe it-" Violet stopped when a loud voice from the inside announced their presence in a voice that said, "Violet and Valerie are attempting entry, access not granted."

"Oh gosh," Violet said, closing her eyes in embarrassment.

"Their alarm will be the death of me, really," Valerie groaned. "It can be heard by the entire bloody neighborhood."

"I'll call her. She must have-" but the door opened and their grandmother's beaming face greeted them. "Ah, you're here!"

They jumped and hugged the old lady, chatting incessantly about their journey as they both wheeled their luggage inside.

"But gram, really, you must consider putting us in your alarm for life," Violet said, dropping on the coach. "We have to find out that our access has expired like every time we come for a visit."

"I always forget, darling. You know your grandpa is the one who takes care of such things. I would not have them if the police did not insist. Insurance, they said." Their grandmother walked to the kitchen. "Would you like tea?"

"And cookies," they both cried out, jumping to their feet to help their grandmother.

Since they were young, they had always loved visiting their grandparents. Both had always insisted on less modern things and it had fascinated the twins while growing up. Their grandparents filled it with things from the past. Old television sets, old board games, actual books they could touch, hardwood

floors, and many more. The entire place was like a huge playhouse and it was still the same after many years. Perhaps it was the fact that their grandparents were both history professors that justified their fascination with everything old.

The twins watched, mesmerized, as their grandmother placed an old pot on an old stove to heat water. Really, their grandparents' house and everything in it could very well have a sign outside that read 'Museum'.

Valerie stared at her grandmother as she worked around the small kitchen. Her hair had gone completely gray, but her blue eyes still had that glow in them as though she was fascinated with everything they lay upon. Her small frame had a slight stoop, but there was still evidence of the proud lady that she was when she was still strong enough to carry them in her arms.

"Where's gramp?" asked Violet.

"Oh, he is out with friends to play chess in the park. He shall be back in a while," their grandmother replied with a smile.

"So, gram," Valerie slowly began, itching to dig more into the stories she and her sister had been spending quite a lot of time lately. "Tell us."

Their grandmother looked at them with a knowing smile. "About what, dear?" she asked.

"You know we know you know what it is about," Violet said in a tone that was nearly whining.

The old woman laughed. "Take a few cookies from that jar," she said, motioning with her head.

Violet eagerly went to the ancient jar and grabbed a handful of freshly baked cookies, dropping them in a bowl. They patiently waited for their grandmother as she took her time to prepare their cups

and pour hot water in them once the water boiled.

Valerie took the tray of tea and the bowl of cookies and carried it to the living room. Their grandmother followed while Violet proceeded to empty a bag that held all the books they took from the cabin.

Their grandmother watched as each book piled up in the middle of the old coffee table. Valerie sipped her tea as her twin sister picked up the third book and said, "This is my favorite so far."

Their grandmother peered at it and a warm smiled spread across her face. "Ah, the story of Margaret."

"You know why it is my favorite?" Valerie asked, picking a cooking.

"Why, dear?"

"Because it involves murder and mystery and some crazy, controversial things."

Their grandmother chuckled, taking the book from Violet's hand.

"Please, tell us why you wrote these," Violet said, motioning at the books on the table with one hand. "Are they true? Does the Town really exist? I mean is it really possible that such a large place can exist hundreds of feet belowground with no contact to the world outside, the people forever living in a way that we now consider distant history? Are the holes real? Can they really live like they do down there with their gowns and carriages and crop plantations?" Violet leaned forward, her eyes eager. "Or is it just all your imagination? Like you just wrote them in a creative way to narrate a different story that happened here, aboveground? Does the League of Founders represent a group of people here? Do the Everards exist and live here? Are these stories just fiction or are they a creative morph of real stories of real people that are actually here aboveground?" Violet's tone had gone desperate. "Can't you tell us at least that? Really, gram, we are at our wit's end here."

As her sister kept talking about the possibility of a country underground with its own laws and leaders, gentries and servants and everything history, Valerie knew, from the look on their grandmother's face, that they would not get the answer right away. Not yet, she thought, as she watched her grandmother open the third book to the first page with a smile of longing.

Their grandmother looked up to give them a long look. "Why don't we talk about the Everards first before I tell my story? I have not talked about them for quite a while. I am quite certain your grandfather is nearly sick of hearing about these stories and he is the only one by far who knows of these."

Violet groaned and Valerie elbowed her sister as she said, "Sure, but first, tell us why."

Excitement lit Fiona Trilby's eyes. "Why what, dear?"

"Why did you write yourself in it?"