In Order to Move Forward
It took Agatha three days to get used to the silence. It took another three before she realized this would take longer than her self-imposed two-week deadline. Until further notice, she was staying.
She sat cross-legged on the floor of a room her grandmother, Vivian, had once used as a study. It had been one of the few places in the house she never went into as a child, respecting Vivian’s need for sanctuary and quiet. Around her were several journals she had pulled from the shelves, the faded ink on their covers marking different periods. She picked one up, flipped to a random page, and felt her throat tighten as her eyes scanned the looping scrawl.
Images from her childhood once again flashed through her mind unannounced. In one, her grandmother sat on a lounge chair on the patio while Agatha and another young girl played nearby. They climbed the oak tree outside Agatha’s bedroom window, its bark pressing against their palms.
Eliza .
Eliza had been Agatha's best friend from the time she was six years old until they were on the cusp of seventeen. Then, she never saw her again.
Eliza was the first person Agatha trusted with her secrets: her dreams of becoming a writer, the poems she scribbled but never shared, the sketches she hid under her bed because Evanora dismissed them as a waste of time.. and eventually, the secret of her heart. They made promises to each other—promises that nothing and no one could ever break. Best friends were forever, weren’t they?
The summer they turned twelve, everything shifted.
They had been sitting in the grass in an open part of the back lawn. Agatha pointed out shapes in the clouds while Eliza weaved daisies into a chain.
Eliza turned to her, green eyes catching the sunlight, and Agatha noticed just how bright they were. Their shoulders brushed, a casual touch, but it sent a shiver through her chest like it hadn't before. Her skin flushed and she quickly looked back to the sky, willing herself to ignore the pull of Eliza’s eyes on her.
But Eliza didn’t move. She stayed close— too close —setting every nerve on fire.
“Agatha?”
“Yeah?” Agatha replied, her throat dry, her eyes fixed on the sky above. She couldn't risk looking over.
“Are you okay?”
Agatha's pulse quickened and her thoughts raced.
“I’m fine,” she lied, offering her friend a smile. But she wasn't fine. She felt something , but she wasn't sure what it might be.
In the years that followed, that feeling only deepened, growing more confusing. Agatha buried it, unwilling to face her feelings and confront the truth. The truth was she had fallen in love with her best friend and that was a shameful sin, at least according to what she had been taught. The thought of coming clean and losing Eliza because of that was a pain she couldn't bear.
They began high school and Agatha could no longer deny that there was something different. She noticed things now—how the curve of Eliza's lips seemed to linger in her mind long after their conversation had ended, how the brush of Eliza's hand against hers sent jolts of warmth through her veins like what had happened all those years ago.
Eliza was oblivious, as always. She had her crushes and her own interests outside of their friendship. She was outgoing and confident, the opposite of Agatha, who was quiet and kept mostly to herself.
At the start of their sophomore year, they sat together on the back patio, Agatha on a chair at the wrought iron table and Eliza lounging opposite her. The air was cooler now, the first hints of fall making themselves known. Agatha looked over at Eliza, a smile on her face as she looked out at the setting sun.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Eliza asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Agatha hesitated. "Sometimes. Why?”
"What do you think it will be like?"
Agatha swallowed. "I don’t know. I just... I don't want things to change. I'm not good with change."
Eliza turned to her, eyes meeting with a serious expression. "Things change, though. That's part of life."
Agatha felt her throat tighten. "Yeah. But I don't want this to change."
Eliza's eyes softened, and for a moment, Agatha thought that she might say something, that she might reveal a secret that matched Agatha's own. But Eliza only smiled again, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"You won't lose me, Agatha. Not ever."
But Agatha wasn't sure if she believed her.
Decades had passed since Agatha last saw Eliza, and while some memories had grown fuzzy, others remained sharp: quiet afternoons in the garden, the sound of Eliza's laugh, the warmth of her smile. As did the day that ruined everything and the pang in her chest. She focused on the good memories, clinging to them as she read from the journal in her lap instead of letting the bad ones take over. One entry described the garden in spring—flowers blooming along the gravel paths, their colors bright against the estate’s gray tones. Agatha made a mental note of the varieties Vivian had planted in hopes to replicate the feeling of seeing those gardens in her childhood.
First, she needed help.
Setting the journal beside her, Agatha pulled out her phone and sent off a text to Lilia:
The backyard looks like shit, Lils, and I’m not putting my hands in that dirt.
Time had certainly changed her.
The reply came almost instantly:
I'll find a gardener.
Agatha quickly typed a thank you and turned back to the journals. Hours passed as she lost herself in the decades of history Vivian had logged, this time choosing to sit at the sturdy wooden desk.
It was after dark when her phone dinged with an email:
From: [email protected]
Subject: Landscaping Inquiry
Good evening! My name is Rio Vidal with Green Witch Landscaping. I’m reaching out at the recommendation of Lilia Calderu. She called saying that you may need landscaping services for an estate. Please let me know if you'd like to discuss plans or rates. I've attached some photos of my company's work.
Regards.
Rio
Agatha was no stranger to conducting business via email, although she did find it odd that there was no phone number listed at the bottom. Then again, perhaps that was for the best; a written record was always useful in case there were any issues. After pushing her glasses slightly back up her nose, she typed a brief reply:
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Landscaping Inquiry
Good evening, Rio. Thank you for reaching out, even beyond typical business hours. I’ve attached a layout of the grounds for your review. Please let me know if this is something your team can handle.
Best,
A. Harkness
With that sent she stood and stretched. Most of the day had slipped away to her distractions and she'd hardly gotten anything done. Now, she retreated to her bedroom. Settling into bed with her laptop, she wanted to revisit her outline so she could possibly get started. It was time to focus on her own story.
Sunlight streamed through the window, pulling Agatha abruptly from sleep. She didn't remember falling asleep, but the state of her laptop—its battery nearly drained, the fan whirring loudly—suggested she had passed out while working. With a groggy sigh, she propped the laptop on its side to cool down and climbed out of bed, slipping on a robe. Coffee was non-negotiable.
In the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, cradling the warm mug with both hands. For a moment, the smell took her back to mornings spent here with Vivian as the older woman drank her coffee, with her hot cocoa with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Those moments felt so safe, so normal. But the memory faded quickly, interrupted by the sharp ding of her phone on the counter.
Expecting a message from Lilia asking about her nonexistent writing progress, she was instead surprised to see an email notification from the landscaper.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Grounds Layout
Thank you for sending over the information, Ms. Harkness. I've reviewed the layout and would like to discuss further. I like to think there's nothing I can't handle. Perhaps I could stop by tomorrow at 10 a.m. to assess the property in person?
Best,
Rio
Agatha sipped her coffee thoughtfully, rereading the message. The directness of the response made her smile faintly. Efficient. It had been a while since she'd dealt with someone so prompt, and it was refreshing.
Across town, Rio Vidal stared at her aging desktop computer, half expecting it to crash before she could send the email. Taking on the Harkness estate was a gamble, but an opportunity she couldn't pass up. As a child, she'd often peered through the iron gates of the property, enchanted by the rose bushes and glimpses of sprawling gardens. Now, she had the chance to bring that beauty back to life—and maybe learn a little more about the elusive Agatha Harkness in the process.
The property had been a subject of fascination in Westview for years, its gates rarely open and its inhabitants cloaked in mystery. Rio knew of Agatha, of course—the woman had escaped Westview to build a successful career. But beyond her fame as a best-selling author, Agatha remained a mystery. The news of her divorce had been widely publicized, as had the tragic loss of her young son, but since then, she'd vanished from the public eye. Rio could hardly blame her. After her own losses, she'd often wanted to disappear too.
By the time Agatha and Rio finalized plans for the visit through a short email exchange, the meeting was set for the following morning. Rio planned to show up sharp and professional—anything less would be unacceptable. She couldn’t risk tarnishing the reputation of her struggling business, especially if this job might just save it.
Agatha, meanwhile, set her mug down and turned her attention back to her growing to-do list. The closet she'd cleared out the previous day had barely made a dent in the overwhelming clutter of the estate. Each item carried the weight of memory, tugging at her heart as she decided what to discard. To make things manageable, she'd designated a spare room as a sorting area, dividing belongings into piles for donation and disposal.
She couldn't help but smirk at the thought of her mother's reaction to her expensive clothing and designer trinkets ending up in thrift shops. Evanora would have been livid, which gave Agatha a small, petty satisfaction. The sequins and silks of her mother's carefully created caftan collection held no value to her. Let someone else enjoy them.
The day passed in a haze of sorting and decisions. By evening, Agatha collapsed onto the couch with her laptop perched on her knees, planning to work on her manuscript. Before she could focus, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She groaned, rubbing her temples, but a glance at the screen made her smile.
Alice, her old college roommate and one of the few people who had truly understood her. Alice had witnessed firsthand the coldness of Evanora's disdain for her daughter, standing by Agatha during some of her darkest moments. Though Alice was now a world away touring with her band, they had managed to keep their connection alive just as they always had.
Agatha answered with a laugh. “It's either way too late or way too early where you are, and I'm not sure which but Gods, am I glad it's you."
The two talked for over an hour, Agatha giving a rundown of the last two weeks. Alice's reaction to Evanora’s death was soft, a hint of sympathy hidden carefully behind: “Oh, Agatha…” The words carried an unspoken truth: You're free now.
Agatha leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes as Alice's voice filled the silence. For the first time since returning to Westview, she felt a sort of peace. But she also knew that the hardest parts of her journey were still ahead.
Tomorrow, the landscaper would arrive, and the real work of untangling her past from this place would begin.