6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Cedarthorne Estate
SAL
Beyond the inviting and warm glow of town existed a large estate that kept all but the bravest at bay.
On a cliff overlooking the Emerald Lake sat Cedarthorne Estate.
The once lavish property spanned St. Stephenshire’s boundary.
Supposedly, someone wealthy built the beautiful place as a wedding present, but rumor had it the family abandoned the house one day, and nobody knew why.
Strange things would happen there—the seasons were in constant flux, there were alleged ghost sightings, and then wailings had been heard by the lake—so the locals believed the old estate to be cursed and avoided the place.
Sal had first seen the mansion almost a year ago while working on the Art Cards of Nowhere from her outdoor patio.
The morning was foggy when she first caught sight of it.
Depending on the light of day and the direction of the wind, she would sometimes see it through the fog, perched staunchly on the cliff, empty and lifeless.
Sal recalled all this as she turned to Rafa while they drove up the forested roads leading to the forsaken mansion.
They listened to the Backstreet Boys during the drive, and they both couldn’t help but sing along.
There was nothing more comforting than listening to songs from one’s childhood, and it was a happy day too.
They were to deliver the complete collection to their anonymous buyer, all fifty framed paintings of St. Stephenshire.
The thought of enough money to keep Autumn Town going elated Sal; she would no longer have to worry about the next few months.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” she said as she looked out the car window. The forest beyond her cottage and past the lake was lush. Was the place truly as unnerving as it was said to be? Everything in St. Stephenshire was so pleasant that it was hard to believe.
“I haven’t either. I heard a lot of ghost stories about this place when I was a kid,” Rafa said, drumming his hands on the steering wheel in tune to the song.
“Do you think that’s why Willow didn’t want to come along?” she asked.
“Maybe. You know what they say about old small towns. But I’m surprised Willow is that superstitious,” Rafa said as they drove up the rocky path and finally arrived at the large old mansion. They both studied it as they parked.
“Which begs the question of why our mysterious buyer would stay here,” Sal said.
Rafa leaned forward to get a better view from the windshield. “Why, indeed,” was all he said.
The mansion must have been a marvel back in the day, because even in its old, dilapidated state, it still stood proud, with its painted white exterior and commanding portico supported by four Corinthian columns.
The main entrance was also grand, with a large central door flanked by narrow panels and crowned by a fanlight window.
Green shutters adorned the other windows, which contrasted beautifully with the dark shingled roof.
The climbing ivy had scaled most of its walls and columns; the paint was peeling away, and the shingled roof needed mending.
Yet it almost coaxed Sal into admiring its Old World grandeur.
What stories does this old house have? She wondered.
Her eyes wandered as she sat in the safety of Rafa’s car, half hoping she’d find a ghost suddenly peering back at her from one of the large windows.
A startling knock came at one of the car’s rear windows.
The hair on the back of her neck stood as she let out a yelp.
They both turned to see a stout, blond young man, bent over with the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
He couldn’t see through Rafa’s heavily tinted car windows, but he smiled warmly.
Rafa lowered his car window to eye level.
He gestured to set the window down lower.
Rafa frowned and did not oblige. “Are you from Cedarthorne Mansion, sir?”
“Ah yes, yes! We’re all expecting you,” he said. Just then, he removed a pair of gloves he had on and wiped them on his apron. “I’ll call someone to help you both in.” He must have been the gardener. If he were, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. The lawn and plants needed tending badly.
Soon, another man joined them. He wore a black suit and a pair of gleaming black leather shoes. His look was a stark contrast to the crumbling structure that stood behind them.
“Welcome to Cedarthorne. My name is Briggs. Come in, please. Introductions will be over lunch,” Briggs said, as he moved back toward the house, and opened the large front oak doors.
Sal took Rafa’s hand and gripped it tightly as they walked through the door.
There was an energy to the house that she could not place, and from the way Rafa pulled her closely, he must’ve felt it too.
Briggs closed the door behind them with a dull thud.
The stories she recalled on the way there and Willow’s unease came rushing back to her.
She hoped this deal would finalize quickly.
RAFA
Rafa did not know what he expected upon entering the dilapidated mansion.
But once inside, the contrast with the crumbling exterior surprised him.
It was as if he had stepped into another house, one with rich tapestries, ornately framed portraits, polished wood, and Persian rugs.
There were even fresh flowers meticulously placed in clear vases on every varnished end table and in each sitting room they passed.
Sal looked equally astonished, her large dark eyes even rounder than usual with awe.
Mr. Briggs led them past a grand wooden staircase lined with an array of painted portraits on the wall, and a grandfather clock just at the foot of it.
He stopped at what appeared to be the receiving room and held the lapels of his suit.
“My master will be with us shortly. I suggest you take in the view while you wait. The terrace has the best view of the estate.”
He opened the two glass terrace doors and let them relish the sight.
A stunning vista of a beautiful garden, complete with old, steep stone walkways that led to a private dock on the lake, stretched out from the terrace.
From there, he could make out St. Stephenshire.
It looked otherworldly, and for the first time, he understood the magnitude of how large and deep the Emerald Lake was.
He had never seen it from this side of town; unlike Sal’s view from her small outdoor patio, which only showed a portion of the lake.
This was not the first time he had seen extraordinary properties, especially with his circle of friends.
He had visited a friend’s medieval castle in Italy one summer and attended weddings in vistas, chateaus, and vineyards.
He even had his crown jewel—his super-bungalow bachelor pad, as Sal called it—in Cannon Beach, with a zen garden of his own overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
Not even a lake like this one, but the ocean.
And yet, something about this old estate stirred him, perhaps because its excessive beauty had been hidden from everyone in St. Stephenshire.
Thinking about the town now just made it seem even more quaint and cozy; St. Stephenshire’s charm was not found in anything grand.
The small everyday comforts built St. Stephenshire’s allure.
It seemed strange that this place was part of it.
“It’s boiling hot,” said Sal as she walked backward to the terrace’s awning.
She was right. It was hot—scorching, even.
And during their perpetual autumn? Rafa was so taken aback by what he saw that he had forgotten the heat.
In a moment, he walked back into the shade with Sal, obscuring the otherwise perfect view.
“Oh yes, yes. Apologies for the heat.” Briggs offered them a place to sit in the shade.
With a minor delay, a servant offered them two tall glasses of iced lemonade.
The ice clinked satisfactorily against the glass.
Briggs added, sounding very apologetic, “You’ll find that not all rumors about this place are fabricated; the bit about the weather going awry is true. ”
“How do you manage?” Sal asked, looking invested in the sight before her.
“We have a lot of help from the mayor. He was so grateful that someone was keen on staying here, so he offered to help with renovations, repairs and such. The seasons change here so often. Some weeks are cool and glum, with no sunshine, and then in a few days, it will be scorching hot.”
“Sounds challenging,” Sal agreed. “Do you mind if I visit the garden? I live on the other side of the lake. I’d like to check if I can see my house from there.”
Briggs looked delighted by her question. “Of course. I have a sun hat you could use and sunglasses. We have unused ones ready, just in case.” He eagerly disappeared into the house and came out mere minutes later with both in hand.
Sal took the accessories and turned to Rafa. “You want to come with?” She placed her hand on his.
Rafa kissed her hand. “I’ll stay here,” he said, wearing the sunglasses Briggs had given them. “I like the view.”
Sal nodded, and in a few moments, she was off with Briggs.
Rafa squinted in the sunlight as he watched Sal trot off to the garden just below.
Something Briggs had said made him pause.
‘We have unused ones, just in case’—just in case, he repeated to himself.
How long had they been here? Why were they prepared for visitors?
Were they from these parts? If they were, how come none of them were familiar to him?
Not the gardener, or Briggs the caretaker. It was all strange.
His eyes stayed fixed on the twinkling Emerald Lake—the same lake that took Claire years ago.
His mood darkened at the thought of her.
It felt almost foreboding, how just years ago he was joking with Claire about Cedarthorne Mansion as it came into view during one of their talks by the lake.
She would fabricate stories about it being inhabited by the ghost of an old, embittered lady forever trapped within its walls.
And yet, there he was, sipping lemonade on the very terrace he would sometimes spot in the murky fog from a distance.
There were no ghosts, no wailing poltergeists.
Just people and their blooming gardens, and an extra supply of sunglasses and sunhats.
Briggs’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. “There he is!” he exclaimed.
Rafa faced the same direction as Briggs and Sal.
He saw a figure emerging on the lake in a boat, and in the approaching boat was a solitary man.
Inch by inch, the man drew the boat near the dock, alighted from it, and then made his way up the stony pathway to Sal.
Surprise took over Rafa when he finally determined who the buyer was.