Page 6 of Manors & Mischief

A huge grin instantly transforms Ember’s face. “You, Sir, are a lifesaver. Can I get the rest of this to go?”

“You got it.” Trav taps the bar, and then disappears back into the kitchen.

A clipped, cold voice breaks the silence. “Would’ve been nice to know I could get there by walking.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear I couldn’t wait to see the place.”

“Haven’t you seen it already? You bought it.”

Ember stands from the stool and rearranges Bea’s scarf. “I’ve only seen it in pictures.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Again. I’m deranged today, and for some reason, this woman brings out the worst in me. “You bought a derelict, century-old house without seeing it in person? You must be a top-notch businesswoman.”

Her gaze narrows as she glares at me. She pulls her shoulders back. Her eyes hold mine, sparking in anger. I would regret such a harsh statement if she hadn’t yanked my dreams out from under me.

She takes out some cash and places it on the bar top. Trav comes out just in time to hand her a to-go bowl with a plastic spoon. “Thank you for your hospitality. It’s good to know some people around here are kind-hearted.” She slices me another look before turning around and heading out of the brewery.

My stomach clenches, but this is actually a good thing. The sooner she realizes I am not her friend, the better.

3

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.