Chapter 12
When I get back to the main property, I wander past various outbuildings.
There’s the sugar shack, which looks abandoned and full of dead leaves; a long-defunct chicken coop with sagging poultry netting; and something that looks like an outhouse.
Next, I wander to what looks like a shed or small barn, which stands no more than ten yards from the main house.
There’s no lock on this door, which hangs open on its rusty hinges.
Inside, the walls are lined with ancient-looking tools, piles of old lumber litter the floor, and a few dusty cans of gasoline lie on their sides on rickety-looking shelving.
An old lawn mower sits in the middle of the small, square room.
It’s strange to think that all this is ours.
I half laugh to myself and wonder if this was all part of Ezra’s plan.
To never get rid of anything and then leave Wildwood to next of kin, assuming they’d be too overwhelmed to try and clear it out and end up staying.
Back at the house, I grab a glass of ice water and then plant myself on the front porch to relax, Hugo at my feet. I’ve almost nodded off, when Hugo’s bark snaps me to.
“What is it, Bubbah?” I ask, scratching his head as he stands on alert. And then I notice a tall, slender woman with long, beautiful red hair walking across the street toward Wildwood. As she gets closer, I recognize her from my Google searches. It is Madeline Brook.
“Hi,” I say standing and walking down the steps quickly to meet her.
“Hello,” Madeline says warmly, holding out a hand.
She is even more beautiful in person. Sparkling green eyes, glowing skin.
She is wearing wide-leg, brown knit pants with a matching sleeveless top.
A simple gold chain hangs around her left wrist and a large diamond flashes on the ring finger. Quiet luxury.
“I’m Madeline Brook, your neighbor.”
“It’s so good to meet you. I’m Elinor Leighton.” I’m acutely aware of how sweaty and frumpy I probably look to her.
“I’d meant to come over sooner, but we’ve had such a rainy summer.”
“No worries,” I say. “We’ve had our hands full getting settled, but things are finally feeling a bit calmer.”
“You are Ezra Bishop’s grandniece, right? I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Yes. Admittedly I didn’t know him well.
And inheriting this place was . . . a shock.
” I still don’t know the right tone to strike when talking about Uncle Ezra.
We weren’t close. The Brooks must know that, in a small village like this, surely they’d have met me if we had been.
Or at the very least, I’d have been at the funeral.
“I can imagine,” she says sympathetically. “So . . . how are you liking it up here?”
“We love it.” I nod my head earnestly. “Truthfully my husband took a lot of convincing to get up here. He thought the idea was crazy at first. But we did it.”
A strange look briefly passes over her face, but then she runs a hand through her silky red hair and smiles. “Well, we are just so glad you did.”
I think she’s about to say goodbye, when she says, as though she’s only just remembered, “Also, two other Brook families live in the other houses on Cold Brook Drive. They’d all love to meet you too. So we wanted to invite you and your husband up for dinner.”
“That would be wonderful. And my husband is Topher.” After a week straight of just the two of us, I’m champing at the bit for fresh blood and fresh conversation.
We settle on a date and exchange contact information before Madeline strides, gazelle-like, down the driveway. When she gets to the end, she turns to wave before crossing the street.
“Madeline?” I call, working up the courage to ask a silly question.
“Yes?”
“Does anyone ever go in the woods here? Anyone besides us?” I think of the noises in the woods earlier, that sound of muffled laughter.
She gives me a strange smile. “Julian hunts, if that’s what you mean. But I think he usually stays on our property.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. And it’s fine if he does use our property. I just thought I heard someone when I was out there earlier. I was just curious. Probably just an animal.” I smile, to show I’m not fussed.
She smiles knowingly. “It can be a little isolating out here if you aren’t used to it. If you ever feel spooked or like you are going a bit crazy, just know we are right across the street.”
“Oh. Okay! Thank you!”
She smiles, gives one last celebrity-like wave, and jogs across the street.
Spooked? Crazy? It’s a strange word choice, I think, as I slowly close the door.
And a tad patronizing. I’m an adult. I can handle being home alone.
But nevertheless, I lock the front door and set the alarm, for the first time since moving in.
That’s just being responsible, I think, as the alarm chirps to life. There’s nothing to be scared of here.