I slide into my car and hear a beep. It’s my phone. I glance at the screen and see one missed call and two text messages.
The call is from an unknown number, and the texts are from my best friends, Zoey and Lynn. They want me to meet them at our favorite coffee shop. They’ll be waiting in the back.
I pull out of the parking garage and head towards the coffee shop. My mind is a whirlwind, trying to understand why my mom never mentioned her aunt. Why did they call her crazy?
I have a million questions, but I know I won’t get any answers. My mom is off in Europe with her boyfriend. She won’t be back until my wedding.
My wedding that she’s not helping me plan. No help with the dress or the venue. It’s frustrating that her boyfriend is only five years older than me.
He’s wealthy, I think? Made his fortune on the New York Stock Exchange. I suspect my mom is only with him for his money. But who really knows? And who really cares?
I pull into the coffee shop parking lot and grab my briefcase. I can’t wait to show my friends what I’ve inherited.
I spot them in the back, tucked into a booth. I wave and slide into the seat next to them.
“Hey, bitches,” I greet them with a grin.
“You seem different,” Zoey observes, her eyebrows raised.
“She looks like she hit the jackpot or something,” Lynn adds.
“Something like that,” I reply, pulling out the papers. “But aren’t you curious about how my meeting went?”
“Oh, right,” they both chime in. “How did it go?”
“I just handed them my second book, and they want my third in four months,” I say, looking at them. “Oh, and I just inherited a hundred-and-twenty-year-old house from my great-aunt.”
“Wait, what?” they both exclaim.
“Yeah. My great-aunt, a famous author, passed away a couple of weeks ago and left me her house.”
“Are you serious?” Zoey asks.
I just shake my head.
“Have you seen the house yet? What are you and Brian going to do with the house you’re building?” Lynn asks.
“Firstly, no, I haven’t seen it yet. Secondly, I haven’t told Brian about it yet. I just found out about it less than an hour ago,” I explain.
Zoey takes the papers and starts to read through them. Her dad’s a property lawyer, so she knows how to decipher the documents.
“No way!” she exclaims, flipping through the pages. “Your great-aunt’s house is worth over $750,000. The property tax is paid for the next thirty years. She spent over $400,000 on remodeling. Everything in the house has been updated.”
“Did she leave any money in her will?” Lynn asks.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t had a chance to go through everything yet,” I admit.
Zoey flips more pages.
“It says here she donated the rest of her fortune to charity.”
“That’s not fair!” Lynn protests.
“Hey, I never knew her and I don’t need her money. My mom said she was crazy. My publisher said she was a good-hearted woman,” I respond.
“Are you going to tell Brian?” Lynn asks.
“Maybe. He was being a jerk this morning. I’ll tell him about it later,” I say.
“Let’s go see the house,” Zoey suggests, sipping her coffee.
“I don’t know.” I start to gather the papers back into the envelope. “I might want to wait for Brian.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
We clean up our table and leave the coffee shop. I get in my car, punch the address into my GPS, and we’re off.
We arrive at the location, and Lynn and Zoey pull up behind me. I see an old mailbox with the number seven hundred and seventeen on it.
Beside the mailbox is a gravel driveway. An open gate reveals a sign that reads, Strange Estates.
I pull onto the gravel driveway and stop. It’s dark, with trees lining both sides, blocking out the sunlight. The driveway stretches out before me, with just a hint of light at the end.
“What are you waiting for?” Zoey yells from Lynn’s car.
I snap out of my daze and start to drive up the driveway. It’s about a mile and a half before we emerge from the trees.
We drive through an archway covered in ivy and flowers.
The lawn is freshly mowed. The shrubs are neatly trimmed. Flowers are planted all over the property.
I park in front of the house, and Lynn pulls up next to me. They both get out of her car.
“This place is yours?” Lynn asks, pointing to the house.
“I guess so. It’s nothing like I imagined.”
It’s a beautiful two-story Victorian-style house, freshly painted white with black trim. The shutters are also black. The roof looks brand new and is a shotgun-gray color.
There are two chimneys, which means there must be a fireplace or two inside.
As we approach the porch, the door swings open and a man appears.
“Ms. Payton, I presume?” he asks.
We all instinctively step back.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Mrs. Fesser informed me you’d be coming,” he says, holding the door open. “I’m Detrick, the groundskeeper and caretaker here.”
“I’m Chelsea. These are my best friends, Lynn and Zoey.”
“Welcome, ladies,” he greets us, still holding the door. “Are you moving in today?”
“No, we’re just here to check the place out,” I tell him.
“Understood, ma’am. Would you like a tour or do you want to explore on your own?”
“Can we explore together?”
“This is your house, ma’am,” he says.
I turn to Zoey and Lynn.
“Forgot to mention, he comes with the house. He lives in a small cottage at the back,” Zoey says.
The first thing that strikes me about the house is the high ceilings. They must be at least ten or twelve feet high, with doors that have windows above them.
We wander around, taking in the house. All the paperwork is current and everything inside is brand new. A brand-new kitchen with new appliances. New furniture throughout.
We ascend the stairs to the master bedroom. It’s enormous, with four large windows that open onto a small balcony. Inside is a new king-size bed with four large posts and a canopy that drapes over the sides.
The bathroom boasts a huge walk-in shower with all new fixtures. There’s also a nineteenth-century clawfoot tub, refinished with shiny faucets.
Zoey jumps into the tub. “I want this so bad,” she says, sinking in. “First sleepover, I call dibs.”
“Whatever,” Lynn retorts, stepping into the giant shower. “I’d rather have it rain on me while my new boyfriend fucks me from behind in here.”
“Gross,” I say. “When did you get a new boyfriend?” I ask Lynn.
“Like you and Brian don’t fuck in the shower,” Zoey teases, laughing.
“We don’t. Our apartment bathroom is too small. It’s either one of us gets all the hot water and the other gets all the cold. So, shower sex isn’t on my bucket list.”
I leave them in the bathroom and discover another door next to it. Opening it, I find my great-aunt’s office-cum-library.
Three walls are lined with books, reaching ten feet high. There’s a ladder to reach the top shelf. Every shelf is packed with books, a mix of old hardcovers and paperbacks.
I’d guess there are at least a thousand books in here.
In the center of the room is a desk. It’s made of mahogany—thick and heavy with drawers on both sides. The desk legs look like elephant feet.
There’s a new chair that seems to hug you when you sit in it. Perfect for writing. On the desk are two brand-new, top-of-the-line laptops and two desk lamps that look like they’re from a black-and-white movie.
I flick one of the lamps on, not sure why.
I walk over to the window that overlooks the backyard. There’s a hill that slopes down, but I can’t see what’s at the bottom from up here.
There’s a small bench by the window, perfect for reading. I sit down and test its softness with a little bounce.
Zoey and Lynn find me sitting in the window seat, gazing out.
“Wow, look at this room! It’s like the Library of Congress. Chelsea, I think you have more books than Lynn now,” Zoey says.
Lynn walks over to a bookshelf and pulls out a book.
“Hey, this is your book,” she says.
It looks well-loved. The spine is cracked, and some pages are dog-eared. This makes me smile.
“Did you know there are like five more bedrooms in this house? We all have a place to sleep now,” Lynn says.
“You better take this house or we will,” Zoey says, high-fiving Lynn.
“Wait. I don’t know if I want to keep it. I need to talk to Brian first,” I say, and their faces fall. “Don’t give me that look,” I tell them, pointing at them both.
