Chapter 9 #2
Something drifted down from above, landing in front of her. A spider? Willow would freak.
No. Something white. A tiny piece of plaster. She looked up as if doing so would give her answers.
Was this normal? Could it be a gauntlet thrown down by the house itself? It might as well be.
Rose sat taller, her shoulders back, infusing her spine with the strength of Magnolia’s love of Briar House and the Evers Hollow community.
“Magnolia loved all of us. She never had favorites. I love Briar House and its grounds. She knew I wanted to restore her. If this is what she wants, then I accept.”
Her stomach turned as she glanced at her siblings around the table. Were they okay with this? Willow’s eyes sparkled, and Rose knew. Willow didn’t want the house, had never wanted the house. She had her own dreams.
Whatever Thorne felt, he hid well behind his unreadable eyes as he maintained his balance on the tilted back dining chair. Magnolia never tolerated the way he sat. He kept quiet. Perhaps he was still shocked at what had been left to him in the will.
Broome, his face ever steady and a bit fierce. He’d been named executor. He’d likely known all of this ahead of time.
Aspen’s next words carried the strike of a copperhead. “I don’t give a damn if you love the house. It should be mine.”
Thorne rocked his chair to the floor with a thud. “So you can dig up Grandmother’s rose garden and put in a pool?”
Aspen reeled back in her seat and sputtered. “How did you?—”
“I heard yours and Gavin’s plans while Magnolia was still on her deathbed. You should have closed your bedroom door.”
Aspen slammed both fists on the table. “This isn’t fair.”
The lawyer averted his eyes and cleared his throat.
Broome said, “Stop. All of you. Every word in these documents is Grandmother’s. Briar House belongs to Rose.”
Aspen opened her mouth, but Broome cut her off with a look. “We need to move past this, Aspen. There’s more to cover.”
Fury blazed in her eyes. She closed her mouth, but the twist of her lips said the fight wasn’t over.
Mr. Winslow continued his recitation. Rose heard his words, but didn’t absorb the tiny details of who got the silver, the china, and the various antiques in the house.
It was well past dark when Broome walked the lawyer out of the library. Mr. Winslow met with each of them briefly in private in the library after the reading. Rose had been last.
She fell back in her chair, clutching a bulky manila envelope to her chest. Magnolia’s signature lay across the seal to indicate no one else had seen its contents.
Broome returned and closed the door behind him. He’d sent Simi and the kids home before the private meetings.
“Still in shock?” His voice was gentle. Sweeping shadows underlined his hazel eyes.
Rose ran a hand down the braid she’d woven earlier. Her fingers clutched its tail, pulling on it a tad, a leftover nervous habit from childhood. “I never thought...”
He gave her a wry smile as he sat on the edge of his desk.
She clutched the envelope. How could she say this? “Aspen has a point. I’m single. This is a huge house just for me.”
“You won’t always be single, Rose.”
Objections rose, but she stayed quiet.
Broome folded his arms. “It’s a hundred-year-old house that needs extensive work.
Grandmother believed you were up to the task.
We talked about it after her first stroke.
She kept me updated about what you’ve done since you moved back.
I’ve noticed the improvements to the house, the grounds, as well as the new roof you paid for. ”
Her efforts made a small dent in all that needed to be done.
Rose said, “Magnolia took all of us in after Mom and Dad’s car accident. She didn’t have to. She could have sent us to foster care. A new roof is a pittance to pay for everything she’s done for us. My books sell well.”
“It’s right that it’s yours. She showed me a list a few months ago of other projects the two of you discussed.
You’ve familiarized yourself with some of the local contractors.
Let me know if you need other suggestions.
I recommend an overall inspection. I assume Grandmother wouldn’t have thought of that.
As for the grounds, you know them like the back of your hand. You know how neglected everything is.”
Rose had done what she could in the time she’d been back here.
Broome was right, though. Everything had been neglected.
It would take time and money to bring the house back.
“She told me stories of how it was when she was a little girl. I had hoped—” She paused.
She couldn’t let grief overwhelm her here, not with Broome.
He could never deal with his sister’s tears.
“I’d hoped she would still be here to see it when it was finished.
It was to be my gift to her for everything. ”
Magnolia, the house, and the woods provided her six-year-old orphan self with a loving home and stability.
The first months hadn’t been easy. Especially for a grieving forty-nine-year-old woman suddenly in charge of five children.
They’d each provided a challenge for her.
Broome, with his interminable silence. Aspen, with enough attitude that became armor.
Willow, with her tears and the nightmares that plagued her.
Thorne, with too much anger to be contained in a seven-year-old.
And her. The woods became her haven, a place where bad things never happened in its magical branches.
She had one more question she needed to ask. No matter what the answer.
“Broome, why me? Just because we made a list together didn’t mean?—”
He nodded toward the large envelope in her hands. “She’ll tell you herself. Everything you need to know.”
Rose frowned.
Broome walked around to Magnolia’s desk, opened a drawer, and reached in.
“Here.” In his hands lay a letter opener, one she’d never seen before. The handle was a dragon. He handed it to her. “Use this. She’d want you to have it. It was her favorite.”
Rose took the blade from him, her gaze caught by the elaborate details and the dragon’s jeweled green eyes. She ran her fingers over the dragon-shaped handle. The blade looked sharp. Magnolia liked dragons? She’d never even hinted.
He said, “Take some time to go through the contents. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
The library door opened. Willow walked in. She looked at each of them with worry, her arms around her waist so tight that her clothes puckered. “Aspen and Gavin went home. Thorne’s outside; he’s planning to stay over. Everything okay here?”
Rose noticed her red-rimmed, swollen eyes. She’d been crying again. The words exchanged around the table over the will had gotten to her, on top of the grief she suffered.
She nodded to her oldest brother. “We’re good.”
Turning, she reached out to hug Willow. “Everything will be okay.”
Broome said, “It’s time to call it a night.”
Rose linked an arm with her sister’s as they left the room.
Willow said, “It’s raining again. I’ve been through every room in the house.” They reached the base of the staircase. “Little has changed since the day we moved in. You have a lot to think about, Rose.”
Rose didn’t get to comment. A loud crack and a horrendous wrenching sound drew their heads around.
Broome’s voice hollered behind them. “Move behind the stairs! Get down! Close your eyes!” He pushed them down and tried to cover them with his own frame.
Sounds of continuous impact trembled through the floor they crouched on. With her eyes closed, Rose clung to Willow. Willow clung right back.
When the shaking and noise stopped, Rose dared to open her eyes. Dust hung in the air around them. As Broome pulled her and Willow to their feet, a cloud of white bellowed out of the room they’d all sat in hours before.
The dining room.
Broome ushered them outside and pulled out his phone.