Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Memory pulled into the driveway, wishing it wasn’t so dark out. It wasn’t even 6:00 yet, but out here, away from the streetlights of town, with only half a moon and a few stars strong enough to shine through the cloud cover, the place looked bleak and dark. She didn’t like it that way.

She turned her car off and took a deep breath. The last few days, she’d found herself thinking of this place more and more, worrying over what to do with it. Meeting Dak had stirred up all sorts of emotions in her, ones she had been trying not to face. But with her sister’s little speech about selling the house, and then meeting someone who bought them for a living, it had been weighing on her mind. Ellie had encouraged her to come by and look the house over, make herself feel more at ease, but as Memory found the key on her ring, she felt anything but.

Snow crunched beneath her boots as she hurried to the door, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around her. She hadn’t bothered to even zip her coat, let alone bundle up for the quick sprint to the house, but then, it would likely be chilly in there, too. The heat was on to keep the pipes from freezing, but she’d kept it at the lowest setting possible so the bill wouldn’t be any bigger than necessary. The key slipped into the lock, and she pushed the door open, the scent of home she was used to mingling with the stuffiness of mildew and lack of use.

Memory paused in the doorway, stomping snow off of her boots and looking around for a moment. Everything looked the same as it had the last time she was here, which was good. At least there hadn’t been any squatters or a herd of animals living in the house. She shut the door behind her and slowly walked through the entryway toward the parlor.

Her grandmother’s chair sat in the picture window of the parlor, the floor lamp behind it. Even without flipping the light switch in the doorway. She imagined her grandmother sitting there, looking out the window, a book in her hand and a smile on her face. A tear slid from Memory’s eye, and she let it linger. Memory turned the lights on and walked through the room, back to the dining room and into the kitchen.

Every room on the bottom floor was as she had left it, which was a good thing because she hadn’t been sure what to expect. She skipped the ballroom for now and went up the staircase by the entryway. Upstairs, she could tell the tarps hadn’t held as well as she’d hoped. There were new water spots in some of the bedrooms. In her grandmother’s office, the bucket she’d set beneath the original disaster was half-full. Muttering to herself, Memory carried the bucket to the closest bathroom and dumped it and then brought it back.

They’d searched the office before, looking for her grandmother’s life insurance policy. It was a mess now, though all the papers they’d found in the whole house were stacked up on the desk and other surfaces and not thrown around the room. She crossed her arms and looked around again, glancing over the stacks, the filing cabinets and bookshelves they’d already dug through. It just didn’t make any sense that her grandmother wouldn’t have an insurance policy, but if she did, surely it would’ve been in this room....

A branch screeched against the window, and Memory jumped. Cutting the branches back was something her grandmother had had done every fall, but Memory had neglected it this year as funds were tight. If she was going to keep more damage from happening, she’d have to get that done, too. Glancing up at the water spot on the roof, she sighed and turned around. She’d had enough discovery for one evening.

Memory headed back down the stairs and considered leaving before she went into the ballroom. It was over to her right, through a large set of double doors with glass inlays, and she could see the moonlight filtering through the large windows gleaming off the marble tile. Her eyes went to the exit in front of her. All she had to do was turn off the light in the parlor and just go. With a sigh, she moved to her right.

The room smelled even mustier than the others because of the water damage. She’d had the breaker turned off so she couldn’t flip the light switch, but she didn’t need to. She knew this room like the back of her hand.

Looking up, she could see the blue tarps over the hole in the two-story ceiling. At least they hadn’t ruined the chandelier—yet. It was much colder in here. Memory zipped her coat and took a few more steps inside, her eyes going to the spot where her grandmother’s largest Christmas tree should be standing. The fact that it wasn’t there seemed wrong. This was the first Christmas where the room had been empty since her grandparents had bought the house almost forty years ago.

Then, she turned and looked behind her at the chair her grandmother had been sitting in when they took the Christmas tree down last January. The vacant chair punctured a hole in her heart, and Memory’s shoulders caved in on her as sobs poured out of her mouth. She stumbled forward and collapsed into the chair, wishing she could go back in time to that day and wrap her arms around Grandma Helen, to tell her how much she loved her, and beg her not to go.

Memory buried her face in her hands and cried until she had nothing left. Her cheeks stung from the prickling cold of her own tears, and her chest continued to spasm as she fought to suck in air. “I just miss you so much,” she said, wishing she could hear her grandmother’s voice assure it would be okay.