The Collector's Curse

【18】Agnes

The following day, we were already leaving Oslo. Our stay there had been brief but intense, and I couldn't wait to return to the quiet fjord up north. I understood why he preferred it to the city, and it made sense that he had made it his primary residence—especially with how much he traveled.

In our hurry to leave the club, we'd forgotten to leave our bracelets at the desk. For some reason, I hadn't removed it, and the black band still adorned my wrist. I didn't entirely hate its meaning, as I already considered myself entwined with him in a romantic way. We belonged to one another in a way, and the bracelet wasn't off mark regarding that. What I had disliked was the sneaky way he'd gone at it.

Before we could head to the airport, though, Ulrik had one more stop planned. "I promise it won't take long," he said as we left the capital behind us.

"It's alright, I don't mind. I'm actually excited to meet another Westergaard."

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but she's a Sørensen."

"Ah, it's fine. You said she was your great-grandmother, right?" He nodded with a grave expression, eyes forward and jaw tight.

We remained silent for the rest of our picturesque journey uphill, meandering through the outskirts of Oslo. The city's vibrancy transformed into a serene landscape of rolling hills and towering trees.

As we neared our destination, the surroundings blossomed into a vision of tranquility. The retirement home was of refined elegance, nestled amidst meticulously cultivated gardens that seemed to thrive despite November being so advanced. Leaves of various colors painted the landscape with nature's brushstrokes, while stone pathways invited leisurely strolls.

We parked the car in the shade of an ancient oak tree, and as we stepped out, the gentle fragrance of nature wafted on the breeze, welcoming us to a realm of beauty and serenity.

As we walked onto the grounds, I noticed others who strolled through the gardens, elderly people accompanied or not by nurses in beige blouses, their presence a testament to the sense of community that thrived here.

The old but pristine building that housed the retirement home stood as an architectural masterpiece, its façade a tribute to bygone eras. Crafted from light stone with four stories, it rose majestically against the sky, each floor adorned with countless windows that provided glimpses into the lives within.

Gothic inspiration was evident in the intricate details that adorned the structure. Delicate carvings graced the edges of windows and doors, while spires reached for the heavens, a nod to a bygone era of architectural beauty. The grand main entrance beckoned us with its intricately crafted panels.

As we crossed it, the tasteful interior design embraced us with open arms. The palette of beige and white continued, creating an atmosphere of understated luxury. Polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of chandeliers above, while plush seating offered a place to pause and admire the beauty that surrounded us.

We walked up to the reception desk, where a staff member welcomed us with a warm smile, her demeanor a reflection of the professionalism that pervaded the establishment. "Good afternoon, Mr. Westergaard. Here to visit Mrs. Sørensen?"

"We are," he said with a nod before resting a hand on my lower back.

"You've come at a great time. She has been herself a little more for the past few days."

"Yes, I received the email."

"I believe she's in the sun room. The weather has been so good lately, so she has been enjoying a few moments there every morning. Nurse Nilsen will take you there," she added politely as she gestured toward her colleague, posted by the reception.