The door to 316 was open. Standing in the doorway, she peered around the corner of the bathroom to find a frail old woman sitting up in bed and eating something from her breakfast tray. Agatha knocked on the door first to get the woman’s attention.

            “Ma’am? Judith? Hi. May I come in?”

            The woman waved her in, giving her a curious eye as Agatha approached the foot of the bed. “Who are you?”

            “My name’s Agatha Charles. My husband and I own Bewitchery Floral Arts.”

            The woman’s expression softened. “Is that where my husband got my tulip?” She glanced to her left, indicating the clear plastic cup on the side table that held the flower.

            “Yes. He told me he was bringing it here to give to you. Since I was here at the hospital, I thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

            “You didn’t need to do that, but it’s sweet of you,” Judith replied and spooned another mouthful of whatever she was eating. Agatha guessed it was oatmeal.

            She eyed the IV lines going into the elderly woman. An oxygen hose was also attached to her nose. It was clear this was not meant to be a short stay. She got the impression it was more like this was the end of the road for the old lady, and her heart went out to her.

            It was also a way for Agatha to cleanse the darkness that had infected her soul after what had happened yesterday.

            “Judith… May I call you Judith?”

            “Fine with me. Can I call you Agatha?”

            Agatha smiled. “Friends call me Aggie.”

            Judith gave a slow nod. “Awright. Aggie. Take a seat and stay a spell, if you can. It gets pretty lonely up here during the day when Hi’s at work. And I detest what’s on television these days.”

            Agatha chuckled as she pull the lone chair closer to the foot of the bed and sat. “I know what you mean. So you grow tulips at your house?”

            Judith’s expression grew somber. “I used to, back when we had our house.”

            Warning flags immediately went up in Agatha’s mind. She was encroaching on heartbreaking grounds. Yet, she also got the impression the woman wanted to unburden herself to anyone willing to listen.

            “What happened to your home, Judith?” she softly asked.

            Dropping the spoon into the bowl, the old woman pushed away the tray and folded her hands in her lap. “We had to sell it because of the medical bills.”

            Agatha tilted her head and waited for the woman to continue.

            “I have heart congestion. An irregular heartbeat. I’m too old to go on the list to get a new one, so…here I am. I can barely get out of this bed on my own, much less walk around.” Judith looked out the row of windows to her right, and Agatha caught the glitter of tears. “Guess I’m not long for this world.”

            “Where do you live now?”

            “Over at The Palmwood. Or Hiram does. It’s not fancy, but it’s within walking distance to his job.”

            The Palmwood. Agatha knew of it. Not quite a senior living facility, but more like low rent housing for the elderly. And it was also a couple of blocks from the hospital.

            A lucky coincidence? Or intentional?