AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Marissa
“I’m sorry, miss, but you won’t be able to get in there for a few days. Not until after the fire marshal has completed his investigation and ruled out arson,” the fire chief states, a look of pity mixed with soot smeared on his aged face.
The words strike my heart with the force of an arrow. Arson? Who? Why? What?
Sighing dramatically, I gaze up at the huge two-story, six thousand square foot Southern Colonial house that I’ve considered my home for the last two decades. It has everything. Ground to roof pillars, freshly repainted black shutters, large front porch, six and a half baths, seven bedrooms, and the biggest kitchen I’ve ever had the pleasure of working in. Now, everything is probably soaked and covered in soot as remnants of smoke filters from the back.
Ever since I was a child, I imagined what it would be like to take this beautiful house and truly make it my own. Every day was a step in the right direction. Though my mom is the official business owner, in the last few years, I’ve taken over many of the day-to-day duties, including all of the cooking and reservations, and when we’re at capacity, I help with the cleaning and assist the guests too. Now all of those dreams have gone up in smoke thanks to old, shoddy wiring that should have been updated years ago, apparently.
“I can’t believe this,” I mumble for probably the tenth time in the last hour. The chief gives me a sad smile before he heads over to where a fireman strings yellow caution tape around the exterior of the house.
I gaze up, my eyes instantly filling with tears. We have everything in this house. Well, I guess it’s more accurate to say my mom has everything in this house. Financially, yes, but personally as well. This house holds my memories – both good and bad, and now it looks like a giant crime scene with yellow caution tape strung from tree to tree and big muddy boot prints caking the front walk.
A vehicle door slamming pulls my attention away from the house. My brother, Jensen, is back, his entire body riddled with fatigue. “How did it go?” I ask, and take in his appearance as he approaches. His jeans look clean, but his T-shirt is wrinkled and his boots not laced. I’m also pretty sure they’re on the wrong feet too.
“Fine. The Clawsons took them both in, no problem. They weren’t at capacity yet either,” he replies, a yawn spilling from his mouth.
The Clawsons own one of the other bed and breakfasts in Rockland Falls, and as of a half hour ago, they now house our two couples who were guests in our home. As I gaze back at the mess, I can’t help but wonder if they were our final guests too.
“I’m just glad everyone was able to get out in time,” Jensen adds, pulling me into his tall, lean frame for a hug. “You’re still shaking.”
I wrap my arms tighter around my chest and watch the smoke. It’s almost nonexistent at this point, but I can still see it. And smell it. It smells like someone threw a bunch of trash in a bonfire. There’s a melted plastic stench in addition to the smoldering wood that was once walls used to keep the outside, well, out. Now, there’s a hole in the back of the place, right next to where my mother’s bed used to sit.
“I’ll be fine,” I mumble, turning my head and resting it on his chest. My brother is so much taller than me, a trait he inherited from our father. Both of my brothers are on the tall side, actually. Well, and my sister too. At five foot three inches, I’m the only one of us Grayson kids who got their height from our X-chromosome contributor.
My mind floods with details in a rapid-fire sequence. Insurance, which, thankfully, my oldest brother, Samuel, is handling as we speak. Construction, rewiring. Plus, there’s the pending cancellation of reservations for the ‘foreseeable future, which will mean loss of income, as we head into the busiest time of the year. All those phone calls. All those reservations. Gone.
And let’s not forget that the fire marshal still has to rule out arson. Who would intentionally start this fire? When we have guests inside! Who would do something so horrific, and for what? Insurance money? I’d much rather have my childhood home and the bed and breakfast than money.
My brain starts to hurt.
“He’s on his way,” Samuel says, dropping his cell phone into the inside pocket of his suit. Even now, at two in the morning, he looks completely put together – in that anal retentive kinda way we all tease him about. Who arrives to the scene of a fire in a charcoal gray business suit? My brother, Samuel, that’s who. As the oldest of four, he’s always taken his duties as firstborn to the max. It’s annoying as hell, really, but it’s the way he’s wired and we love him the same (even if we want to kill him half the time).
“Thank you. You guys could probably head home,” I suggest. They’ve been here since I called them nearly four hours ago.
“We’re not leaving until Mom arrives. How far away is she?” Jensen asks, suppressing another yawn. The poor guy is up before the sun every morning getting his day organized. He owns a landscaping business in town and works from sunup to sundown most days, yet still has time to co-parent his four-year-old son, Max.
“She should be here anytime,” my sister, Harper, adds as she joins our little group, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. She hands one to me and waits expectantly for me to take a drink. When I do, I don’t taste the bitter coffee. I don’t taste anything, actually, but the cup feels warm against my cold, numb fingers.
“Good,” Samuel replies. (P.S. Don’t call him Sam – or worse, Sammy – unless you want to be bored to death with the history behind his name and why he prefers to go by the formal one listed on his birth certificate.)
As if on cue, headlights illuminate the tree line that leads to Grayson Bed and Breakfast. The four of us turn and watch as Mom’s car slows just outside of the yellow caution tape, the passenger door flying open before the car comes to a complete stop. Even in the dark of night, I can see the tears streaming down her face as she approaches.
“Oh my word,” she whispers through a sob as she runs up and pulls me into a tight hug. “You’re all right? Everyone is okay?” she asks, pushing me back and giving me a once-over, Mom-style.
“I’m fine. Everyone is fine,” I choke out over my own emotion as she pulls me into another lung-crushing hug.
“I can’t believe this,” she mumbles, turning and giving the home her attention.
Samuel steps up beside her, wrapping our mom in his long arms. “The insurance agent will be here soon, and the adjuster first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, Samuel.” Mom sighs deeply, worry lines creasing her sad green eyes.
The five of us stand together, our arms wrapped around each other as we watch the firemen come out of the house we’ve called home. I may be the only one who still lives on the property, but there’s no mistaking the look of pure sadness reflected in the eyes of my three siblings.
“Oh, Mary Ann,” a woman says behind us. We all turn at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and find a petite older man and woman, their eyes both filled with unshed tears and their hands entwined together.
