Two
Rhett
Another sound, this time behind me, and I whirled to face—
—a cat?
A beautiful cat, really. It had long black fur, big green eyes, and sat on the bottom step of the staircase like it had been there for ages and what took you so long to notice, silly human ?
Had the cat pushed the door open somehow to get in? Maybe I hadn’t shut it as firmly as I thought.
That didn’t explain the footsteps that sounded like marching, though. I’d heard cats sound like a herd of elephants coming down the stairs—maybe it was the cat? I saw no sign of any other intruder, so it must have been.
“Uh, Mom? Did Aunt Ruth have a cat?”
There was a surprised pause. “ Uh, no ? Why ? Do you see a cat in the house ?”
“Beautiful black cat. Just sitting here like it owns the house. But surely that’s not possible? I mean, she never mentioned a cat.”
“ I don’t see how a cat would have survived. It’s been three months since anyone was there. Well, maybe the cat distribution system found you. You said you wanted one .”
“I did, yeah. Assuming this one’s friendly.”
I’d grown up with pets in the house, but I hadn’t had any in years. I hadn’t had time to care for a cat while in college and the dorms didn’t allow pets anyway. I’d missed my furry friends very much, and I’d sworn that as soon as I was settled in my new house, I’d get at least one cat and one dog.
My promise to myself had not anticipated getting a cat fifteen seconds after inheriting the house, but here we were.
I came in closer, slow and low. “Hi, pretty kitty. Can I pet you?”
The cat gave a leisurely stretch, then hopped off the stair, sauntering toward me. Without any hesitation, it rubbed its head against my fingers, tail giving a happy flick as it did so.
“Aww, you are sweet. Mom, I think I have a cat.”
“ I think you do too. ”
Belatedly, I remembered the front door was wide open behind me. Not wanting the cat to escape, I crab walked over there and quickly shut the door. Then locked it for good measure. Phew, okay.
“Well, I was going to get groceries after walking around the house anyway. I guess I’ll pick up cat food and such while I’m at it. Do you want to go through the safe before I do?”
“ No, honey, you get situated first. I can wait. You’ve got a lot to do to move out of your apartment .”
“You’re not wrong.”
Although most of what was in my apartment was either being dumped or picked up by Goodwill. My furniture had been cheap from the day I got it—meant only to help me survive—and didn’t begin to compare to the beautiful antiques in this house. Really, the only things I’d be bringing with me were personal effects, clothes, and my own book collection. They were already packed, and I had movers scheduled for tomorrow. Tonight, I’d sleep here. I had a suitcase in my car already.
I looked down at the cat sitting near my feet. Almost on my foot, really, as they had a dainty little paw resting on my tennis shoe. The cat looked up at me curiously, like they were trying to get my measure.
Same with me, little buddy. “In that case, I’m going to hang up. I’ll need two hands for this shortly.”
“ I’ll talk with you later. And make sure to video chat your father tonight. He wants a tour of anything that needs fixing .”
“You got it. Love you, bye.”
“ Bye, honey !”
I hung up. “First, I must figure out gender and name, then all the vet appointments need to happen,” I said to the cat. “Right now, let me go close a safe, then I can at least find you a bowl for water. Sound good?”
Cat gave me a slow blink.
“Aww, you trust me already? Well, I’m a sucker for cats. I guess you can sense that.”
I gingerly knelt and petted my kitty some more, kind of trying to sus out if I could lift and carry my new feline companion. Some cats absolutely did not do the lifting thing, while others wanted to be held like a baby. No logic to be found here, folks.
Cat did not mind whatsoever being picked up. In fact, as soon as I stood, they rearranged themselves until I had a cat draped over one shoulder, purrs to be heard from miles away. Welp, this one was clearly not feral.
“All right, then.” I walked back to the library, putting the sword in the umbrella stand, as I didn’t see any signs of an intruder and I was already one hand down. Kitty had claimed hand.
The safe’s door was still wide open, and I went to it with the intent of closing it and replacing the painting, but something caught my eye. There was a red-looking diary sitting on the top shelf, and on it was a sticky note that said: RHETT READ FIRST.
What was this?
I picked it up, then turned and braced it on the desk so I could use one hand to flip the cover over. Now that was definitely my great-aunt’s handwriting. The flowing, elegant cursive was something I could identify a mile away.
Rhett,
Welcome home ! This book is something I wrote to tell you everything you need to know about the house .
Aww. Aunt Ruth had written me a manual? About the house? That was so like her. I felt the love and grief for that amazing woman tangle like a knot in my chest. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. I’d mourned her enough. Now, I wanted to celebrate the legacy she left me.
After I battled the tears back, I read the next line.
Now, first, don’t panic about the ghosts. They’re friendly .
Excuse the fuck out of me. WHAT?!
I paused in the reading because I felt like this was going to be an absolute doozy. Instead, I put kitty down, ran to my car, hauled in suitcases and computer, ran back to the car and parked it in the carriage house—yes, the Victorian was an 1800s build, so there was a very elaborate carriage house—then ran back inside. I got kitty situated with a bowl of water, then for the first time ever in my adult life, sat down and ordered for groceries and cat supplies to be delivered. I just didn’t have the patience to go get everything myself, not when there was a mystery at hand.
Then I went back to the library, sat my ass down in the comfy chair, and my entire attention went back to the diary/letter Aunt Ruth had written me.
Right. Let’s read that line again.
Now, first, don’t panic about the ghosts. They’re friendly .
Somehow, reading this a second time still didn’t magically make me feel better. Imagine that.
Swallowing hard, I kept reading.
The house is very old, as you know, built in 1802 by Franklin Cartwright for his family. He was a lumber baron and very, very good at what he did. So good, in fact, that his family was able to keep this house up until I bought it sixty years ago. Rather astounding.
Anyway, the family’s still here. Franklin, his wife, Abigail, and three children—Sophia, Maddison, and Rupert. They all died in the house—
Oh my god, don’t tell me that.
—but like I said, they’re very friendly. I’ve had many a talk with them over the years. I told them you would get the house next, and they seemed fine with that, but you should absolutely say hello so as to not offend them. Oh, and leave the TV on when you leave for work. They get bored. The sci-fi channel seems to be their favorite. Either that or a good mystery show.
I think once you all settle, you’ll get along swimmingly.
Now, your neighbor across the street in the blue house is a retired cop, and very friendly. If something happens, I’d go directly there.
Aunt Ruth! Oh my god, don’t go from talking about ghosts to casually telling me about the neighbors! What the hell’s wrong with you?!
I slumped dramatically over the chair’s arm, my head swimming. I’d had a witch friend in high school—I was very aware there were all sorts of things that go bump in the night—but I didn’t want to live with them, dammit. By moving into this house, was I going to be doing a lot of seeing? Because I didn’t know how to feel about that.
dainty paws landed on my thigh.
I looked down at the cat, who was staring up at me. “Hi. Your food is coming, by the way. Should be here in an hour. Are you mentioned in this book too?”
The cat took my response as invitation, hopping up into my lap and getting comfortably situated before making biscuits against the chair’s pillow. Well, someone was happy.
I gave kitty a pet and read some more, but ghosts didn’t pop up again. Aunt Ruth kept talking about the neighbors and the history of the house. In the back few pages, she had a list of everyone I might need to maintain the place—gardener, handyman, the works. Even a timeline of when to get certain things done, like snaking the lines to make sure they were clear of tree roots.
All very helpful, but seriously, Aunt Ruth? You gave me three paragraphs about ghosts. Three SHORT paragraphs.
If I wasn’t already half crazy, this would push me decidedly over the edge. This woman, seriously. I half suspected she left the diary in the safe as a prank. Aunt Ruth was not above pranks.
I looked down at the purring cat in my lap. “So was the door opening and the heavy footsteps you or a ghost?”
Cat kept purring. Cat did not care.
“Figures you’d be cute but useless. I guess I’ll figure out if this is a prank or not as days go by.”
Deciding to air on caution, I looked about the room. “Uh, hi? I’m Rhett. Aunt Ruth was my great-aunt and she left the house to me. I absolutely do not want a fight with you. I think we can get along fine. Aunt Ruth said to leave the TV on, so I can do that.”
No response.
I felt a little crazy talking to the air. Really suspected this was a prank.
The doorbell rang, a loud dooooooong sound. I startled, then realized it was probably my groceries and cat stuff being delivered.
Shifting kitty out of my lap, I headed for the door. Groceries and setting up for a cat took first priority. I’d focus on settling into the house today.
The ghosts, if there were any, could wait their turn.