Chapter 4
NOELLE
Comfort and the smell of Grandpa’s aftershave lulled me to sleep. Exhausted from the flight, Lily slept hard until four, when I gave her a bottle, changed her diaper, and she slipped to sleep again.
We both woke up sometime around eight. Lily fussed as I dragged myself out of bed to study the old bedroom with a fresh set of eyes.
Dear heavens.
What happened to this place?
Fresh sunlight streamed through holey curtains, pulled partially shut. The edge of a dresser pushed into the middle and prevented them from closing entirely. What appeared familiar and reminiscent last night was dusty and mildly horrifying in morning light.
Lily’s fussing increased, so I padded to the closet.
I’d made a bed for her on the ground. Not ideal, but safest. She flailed, fists waving, while I gathered her up, checked for bugs on her—found none—and hurried into the kitchen.
Her protests slowed, but the reprieve wouldn’t last long. When hungry, this gal bellowed.
“Just like your mama,” I said with a pat on her bum.
She gurgled.
My hand stopped halfway to the cupboard where I thought their pots and pans might be.
I moved by muscle memory—it had been years since I came here—but a part of my brain sparked to life as I futzed my way around.
Grandma’s cast-iron skillets remained on the range, where they always had been. She left. They didn’t.
I paused.
Something wasn’t . . . right.
The rustic, love-filled house felt different.
Whirling around, I took in the kitchen with fresh eyes.
Had it always been this run down? Ragged came to mind.
Ancient and cracked and half-dead. No, it hadn’t.
After Grandma died, it appeared as if the beating heart had been carved out, and everything withered without her.
A mild panic brewed deep in my gut.
Oh, no.
Bringing the old house up to date was one thing. I could clear the old diorama, replace the hollow-legged table, and slap up some paint on the walls. But daylight made it clear that the problems in this house extended far beyond cosmetic.
Everything was fading.
The fridge. The sink. The stove. Fixing these problems wouldn’t be plausible for Lily and me. Not even a little. Not with an infant, a limited budget, and a desperate need for a job.
What had I expected? The safe haven from my childhood come to life? Well, yes. Like in the past, I ran to Grandma and Grandpa’s to escape reality and find a safe place to burrow in for a few days. Weeks.
Years.
It made sense why Bart and Marsha invited me to the reading of the will in their place. Since my father had cut himself off from the family and would claim nothing, whether bestowed or not, they would receive the ranch. Or, rather, they would receive the burden.
With widening eyes, I nosed through a few more cupboards to find Grandpa’s favorite foods—Spam and canned green beans—in one. Expired, half-filled medicine bottles in the others. Bowls and plates that must have come from the seventies. A vintage collector would have a riot.
Lily brought me back to earth with a lusty cry, affronted by her hunger pains. Shaking my head, I returned my focus to the cupboard with the pots and pans and rummaged up one I could use to heat water. They had no microwave. The idea of it offended Grandma.
Ten minutes later, I sat on a rickety kitchen chair while Lily worked at the bottle. I tried not to panic as I let my eyes drift over the cracked wall, the old fixtures, and the peeling linoleum. My phone rang.
Marsha.
I tapped accept faster than lightning. “What is this place?” I asked.
A pause answered.
“Well, hello there, Noelle dear. Is the ranch every bit as charming as I expected?”
“You call this charming?”
“Not at all.”
Tears bubbled to the surface, but I swallowed them back.
Potential replies populated with untold strength.
This place is overrun by savage dust monsters.
Archaic comes to mind. My eyes lingered on a corner across the room.
The flooring peeled up, hiding something dark beneath.
Swallowing my disgust, I turned my shoulder to it.
“It’s a . . . it’s . . .”
“That bad?”
“Did you know?”
“I had an inkling.”
Astonishment held me in her rabid grip. Had I been delirious last night? Groggy from sleeping on the plane, or just ridiculously excited to be dropped in the middle of nowhere?
“You know, there’s a considerable amount of land that comes with it,” she said with a little breath, and it hitched at the end. “The house itself may need some repairs, but the land is really valuable. It may need a little love, but it’ll be worth it.”
“Some repairs?” I echoed. “Marsha, this place is halfway to condemnable.”
She huffed.
“That seems a bit dramatic.”
It was. It was a bit dramatic, but true to the agitation in my chest. The work here felt big. Impassable. Monstrous. I had no words for what choked me when I looked at the ranch house through my memories. Nostalgia. Deep affection. Safety.
Then facing its current state, overwhelm.
The need for rescue. Lily already kept me occupied in working as a savior, thanks.
I didn’t need this place to ask more of me.
I pondered whether we should doze the whole thing and start new.
Another strip of wallpaper threatened to peel off the nearest wall. Was that mold growing behind it?
Lily coughed, so I lifted her, removed the bottle, and gently tapped her back. When she settled, grasping for the nipple again, I eased her into my left arm instead.
“Don’t worry too much about the house yet, Noey,” Marsha said with a little coo. “The reading of the will is today, yes?”
“In a few hours.”
“Good. Keep us updated on what you hear. We’re about to leave for a little catamaran trip with our friends on the Gulf, but I’ll see your messages when I return.
At most, we’d like an idea of what the investment looks like.
If the house is salvageable, we need to know at what price tag.
We’ll expect to price the house, the land, and all the animals together. ”
My throat tightened. While I felt no glory in this old place, I certainly didn’t want it flicked away to the highest bidder. It felt cold. Cunning. Ruthless. The worst tribute to Grandpa’s memory. Not that they honored him much, anyway.
“At this point,” I said carefully, “I think the house is less of an asset than a disaster.”
Marsha laughed with a little trill that made it clear she was speaking to someone else.
Though I spent a fair amount of time with Marsha and Bart over the last several years, I couldn’t articulate exactly what Bart did for a living.
Like my parents, they had a lot of money, and spent most of it on leisure vacations and networking parties. Whatever that meant.
“Well, darling, let us know what you find out,” she trilled with the voice that meant she’d switched into entertaining hostess and wouldn’t return to doting-but-delirious-auntie. “We’ll be in touch soon, I’m sure. Love and kisses to you and the baby!”
The phone clicked off.
Lily shoved the bottle out of her mouth with her tongue, so I set it on the table, lifted her to my shoulder, and positioned her to burp. Her head lolled a bit as she settled. I stood, taking in the room, the cobwebs, the stained floor.
“Well, Lily. I think we’ve found somewhere to hide. One look at this place, and your paternal grandparents would run away and never come back. That removes one worry off my shoulders, and adds several more. Doesn’t it?”