3. Ember
EMBER
The barkeep was right. Five minutes later, I’m standing outside Sleepy Hollow Manor’s wrought-iron gate. Unkept grass snakes its way through the ornate metal. Prickly thorn bushes punctuate the front yard, but beyond that is a treasure of historic beauty.
I nearly drop my pumpkin sausage soup because it’s the prettiest house I’ve ever seen.
Maybe not conventionally. It does need work.
Chipped paint, hanging shutters, missing floorboards in the porch, but the porch.
It wraps around the house, trimmed in moons and stars.
Whimsy at its best. The old wood siding climbs to the second floor, and then even higher to a widow’s walk.
Chimneys and bay windows. It looks like it stepped right out of a haunted house magazine.
So much emotion sweeps over me that I have to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
It’s been a journey getting here. Not just the physical one, but a mental one as well.
Fights with my family who think moving here and renovating a house when I have no idea what I’m doing is a terrible idea.
I just couldn’t fight the call though. Once I made the decision to buy the place, it didn’t matter what anyone said.
Right now, they’re giving me the silent treatment, but I’m here, standing in front of a house that I now own.
A sense of accomplishment fills me, and no amount of work that needs doing is going to stop me from taking in this moment for what it is—I own this house, and it’s beautiful.
I swipe a tear from under my eye and walk forward. I can’t wait one more second. I fight with the gate for a few seconds before it gives way with an ancient groan. The out-of-control grass reaches over the sidewalk like skeleton fingers emerging from the depths.
I receive the same greeting from the porch. Long complaints from protesting wood. A beautiful black chandelier hangs just by the front door, suspended by heavy-duty chains, rusty and chipped, but somehow charming all the same.
I don’t know that I would change a thing for this season.
It’s like it leapt out of a haunted house blockbuster.
I could easily assume at least a dozen ghosts are living here.
Flickering lights, blood dripping down wallpaper.
It reminds me of R. L. Stine’s Fear Street books I used to read as a kid, especially the one where they were shooting a movie in a haunted house.
Goosebumps spread up and down my arms. I can’t wait to watch The Exorcist in this house and creep myself out. The waning light from the sun does the manor every bit of justice. At night, it probably darkens the shadows in an eerie outline of horror.
This is going to be the best fall of my life. The best Halloween. The best everything!
I take another step toward the door, and the wood cracks underneath me.
I quickly step off before my foot goes all the way through, and stare down at a now hanging floorboard.
As I search the dark underneath the porch, the silhouette of a creature moves into view along with two glowing eyes.
I shriek, stepping backward until a metal porch swing catches my fall, my feet swinging out from underneath me and rocking until I grip the side.
My goodness. My heart kicks up a few hundred notches as I stop the swing. Somehow, my pumpkin sausage soup made the journey with me and is still in my free hand. I better get inside before I hurt myself.
Remembering what the note from my real-estate agent said, I look under the planter next to the stairs and find the house key.
It’s an old skeleton key that definitely matches the vibes of the place, but I’m unfortunately going to need to upgrade for security purposes.
Hopefully, the skeleton key opens up something in the house, too, so I can keep it and not just hang on to it for show.
I could be one of those creepy side characters who has a skeleton key hanging from her neck and talks about hidden doors and secret passages.
I chuckle to myself as I fit it in the door. It takes a little bit of manpower, but eventually, the door creaks open wide. The swath of sunlight reveals hardwood floors and a curved, ornate banister outlining winding steps.
Searching to my left, I feel around for a light switch and smile when my hand hits something promising. I push it up, and the lights begrudgingly flicker on, the glow emanating from a grand chandelier in the foyer, crystals dripping from it like frosting.
Dusty white sheets cover furniture. The smell of mothballs and untouched dust tickle my nose.
It looks like someone just upped and left one day and never came back.
Perfect. Because even if I had my own furniture, I wouldn’t have wanted to lug it all the way up here.
Plus, it creates an ambience that I never would’ve been able to recreate.
I jump up and down, and then quickly walk from one end of the house to the other. The kitchen, which, whoa, needs updating. The sitting rooms, the living room, a half bath with the craziest looking toilet I have ever seen.
I run up the curved steps, trailing my hands along the dusty banister to the second floor where all the bedrooms are.
Half face the road, while the other half face the backyard.
Each one is decorated in a colorful theme.
Dark blue, crimson red, burnt orange, and moss green.
The primary bedroom is exquisite. A four-poster bed sits against the wall like a formidable structure.
It’s the only bedroom that has a bathroom attached, complete with a white and black checkered floor and a pristine claw tub that transports me right into the early 1900’s.
The marble vanity is built like a brick shit house.
Then there’s the third floor. A much more subdued staircase takes us to the high-ceilinged, one-room structure.
Late day sun streams in through the arched, church-like windows.
It’s an instant love for me. My mind reels with what I could make it.
A library. My bedroom. Even just a chill room where I can look out over the rest of Harvest Falls.
I move to the window. The foliage from here is extraordinary.
I can see the peak of the church, and the roof lines of nearby houses.
Outside of Harvest Falls, a valley of trees with leaves in all different states of color greet me.
If this isn’t the prettiest room in the house, I don’t know what is.
I move to the other window. More houses, a cemetery in the distance with leaves filtering to the graves below, a farmhouse flanked by a field of corn.
I can even see a huge tractor plowing the wheat-colored, end of harvest stalks to the ground.
Possibly the host of the corn maze? The Harvest Falls website says it’s one-of-a-kind.
Excitement bubbles up inside me. It’s like I stumbled onto the set of Hocus Pocus. Maybe that will even be my costume this year. Not the Sanderson sisters, but Allison’s when she descends the steps of her parents’ huge house. Something regal and fancy.
I’m imagining it all in my head when a car pulls up next to the house. Not any car. My car.
Devon Lachey steps out. My mouth drops again. He has my car. What the—?
I try to unlatch one of the windows so I can yell down at him, but it doesn’t work. These windows don’t seem to open, so I run down the set of stairs to the second floor, then down the ornate steps to the ground floor before running across the foyer to whip open my front door.
I don’t even think about the hole in the porch when I step out, but then I’m suddenly four feet shorter than normal, my right foot swinging underneath the porch.
A strangled cry must slip from my lips, but then I press them together. No way do I want Frosty, or Mr. Plaid, or whatever else I’m going to call the gump to see me like this. He’ll probably just gloat, or say something rude again about me buying a house without seeing it in person.
Unfortunately for me, he pokes his head above the black iron gate and around a thorned bush. An easy chuckle glides from his throat. “What do we have here?”
I try to push up, but when I realize that’s not going to work, I just stay there, arms crossed like I always stand on my porch with one foot while the other swings freely underneath the floorboards, my body stretching in ways I haven’t for several years.
I can’t even think about the thing that’s down there with the glowing eyes.
I try to keep my voice as even as possible. “Absolutely nothing.”
He jiggles a set of keys in his hand. “You left these at the brewery.”
“So, you thought you’d steal my car?”
“I thought I’d fill the gas for you and return it. They’re sticklers for the no overnight parking in town.”
I clear my throat, wondering if I should apologize, but decide there’s no chance. I can be civil though. “Well, thank you.”
“Trust me, it was worth it just to see you like this.” He grins as if he’s taking so much pleasure in this. A gentleman he is not. “Do you need help?” he finally asks.
“None whatsoever, thank you.”
“Comfortable?”
“Absolutely.”
He leans against the gate, my keys still dangling from his fingers. “You know, most people stand on porches.”
“Interesting. We must be doing it wrong where I’m from.”
He bends over like he can see under the porch. “Sure hope there are no critters under there.”
Me too because I think I feel something brush up against my leg. I capture the scream in my chest. I will not show weakness in front of this guy. I will not show weakness in front of this guy. “It wouldn’t bother me if there were.”
His mocking lips pull wider now while he shakes his head. He places my keys on the gate spire. “Guess I’ll leave these here. You can grab them when you’re done hanging out.”
Har-har. He thinks he’s so funny. “Will do.”
Devon hesitates, peering at me with his brows raised like I would deign to ask for his assistance. I don’t. I’d rather stay here all night. I’d rather be stuck here for eternity. After a little while, he salutes and walks away with a giant grin on his face.
Do you believe that man? The audacity to take my car, and then to leave me here.
I blow out a breath then peer around. A daddy long legs makes its way toward me, and I cringe away.
First thing’s first. How do I get myself out of this mess?