Retirement, Day 15

​

Anastasia has been invited to an outing with several of the other women in this small community. An evening gathering at Ruth Sanderson's home playing something called Bunco. Neither Anastasia nor I knew what this Bunco entailed.

​

Anastasia had been weeding the front flower beds and I'd been surveying the backyard, carefully inspecting the fences to make certain they could withstand any possible incursions from the neighboring property. It was a terrible fence--wooden, painted white, and short enough that I could look over it without needed to fetch a stool. Wholly unsuitable for defense.

​

My wife had banished me from the front yard after we'd received complaints about my moat project. A representative from the Home Owners' Association had knocked on our front door very early on a Friday to present me with a written complaint and an order to cease my digging.

​

I wiped my arse with it.

​

Still, I didn't like upsetting Anastasia so I had refrained from daylight digging. Until I could find enough workers who brought no value to anything but hard labor--like nobility--I resorted to nightly sessions. I dumped small amounts of the earth onto my neighbors plant beds to hide any progress. No need to completely neglect defensive structures just because some people were more interested in people complimenting their marigolds than in personal safety.

​

"How do I look?" Anastasia trilled as she twirled before me.

​

She wore a brightly colored frock with a pattern of cherries all over it. A vibrant scarf in some gossamer fabric wrapped around her neck while her head was shaded with a gargantuan woven white hat. 

​

"I thought this gathering was inside a house," I said. My wife looked lovely, as usual, if a bit overdramatic. Honestly, it was perfect.

​

"It is, Vlad. But we must live up to our lineage." She stood on tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to my cheek.

​

"Of course, beloved. You are a vision." I kept what kind of vision to myself. No need to send her climbing atop the dining room table. "Have you learned how to play this Bunco?"

​

Anastasia rummaged in the refrigerator, emerging with two bottles of strong red wine. She tucked them into a woven tote that matched her hat. "It's a game, Vlad. How hard can it be?" 

​

"Regardless, I hope you have an enjoyable time." I walked her to the door and handed her outside, squeezing Anastasia's hand.

​

My bride gifted me with a vicious smile. "I will bring them to their knees for the honor of the Draculesti!"

​

"That's nice, dear."