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“She was my neighbor in college,” Maya said. “She’s a few years older than us.”
“A thirty-year-old friendship?” Brad suggested.
Maya showed too many of her teeth. “Olivia and I would do anything for one another. It’s one of those friendships, you know?”
Brad’s heartbeat intensified, although he had no idea why. “You said she’s from Hollygrove originally?”
Rainey ignored him and took another step. “Did Maya get the next step of her inheritance?”
“Thaddeus passed along the key, yes,” Brad said.
“And what’s her next task?” Rainey asked.
“Something to do with finding an old heirloom,” Brad said with a shrug. “I’m going to meet her at the house in a half-hour.”
He wanted Rainey to understand just how dedicated he was to Maya right now. He didn’t want her to think, even for a moment, that he was into Rainey.
Rainey’s eyes flickered, and it made Brad nervous. It felt as though she planned something. After a dramatic pause, Rainey’s smile widened, and she said, “Good luck to you both on finding that heirloom.” She then turned on her heel and paraded from the classroom, leaving Brad with a sour taste in his mouth.
Brad drove out to Veronica’s mansion, trying to get Rainey’s face out of his mind. As soon as he pulled into the long driveway and drove past the ornate, iron fence, upon which was carved the initial A for Albright, Rainey’s strangeness faded, and he was left only with amazement. The Victorian mansion was colossal, with a west and east wing, a ballroom with a domed ceiling that could clearly be seen from the outside, and sharp rooftops that gave it the look of a fictional haunted house.
Maya was already there. She stood on the front porch, her jaw hanging open, the iron key in her hands. As Brad approached, she turned and wrapped her arms around him, shivering with fear.
“I didn’t know how to go in alone,” she explained with a laugh. “I was terrified.”
“We can do it together,” Brad assured her.
Maya flicked away a tear and smiled up at him. “According to the letter, my aunt hasn’t lived here for over a year. But a crew of cleaning people have come every week or so to make sure it isn’t too dusty.”
“That’s a relief,” Brad said.
Maya bit her lip and turned to assess the huge door. It looked almost too heavy for such a petite woman. “Here goes nothing.”
Maya slid the iron key through the keyhole, turned until the doorknob clinked, and pressed it open. Brad followed her quietly into the foyer, where the ceiling stretched three stories high. Paintings of Albright family members hung on the east and west walls— one of a man on a horse and another of a woman on a chaise longue. Brad closed the door behind them and searched for a light switch, which he eventually found near an enormous monstera plant. Lucky for them, the chandelier above illuminated everything, making it much less frightening.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Maya whispered.
“I think we’d better find the heater,” Brad said.
Maya arched her eyebrow. “Maybe there’s a nice fireplace?”
“Great idea,” Brad said. “I’ll check it out.”
This time, Brad led the charge east, down a long hallway that he illuminated with light. Eventually, he turned into a cozy library, its bookshelves lined with what had to be hundreds of books— the entire works of Shakespeare, Dickens, plus American classics likeMoby Dickand writing from the Beat Generation. There was an enormous stone fireplace along one wall, along with a collection of firewood. Stationed in front of it was a gorgeous dark green couch into which Brad longed to sink.
“Maybe we can make some tea, warm up, and enjoy the library for a little while,” Brad suggested. “After that, we can explore the rest of the house.”
Maya nodded. “I need to find my bravery. This place gives me the creeps.”
Brad touched her arm. “It shouldn’t,” he said. “This place is your home, now. Your family has owned it for generations. And now, it’s yours.”
The color drained from Maya’s cheeks. After a dramatic pause, she stammered, “I never even had a bedroom of my own. What am I supposed to do with fifty rooms?”
Brad tried to laugh but failed, his stomach curdling. He couldn’t imagine what Maya felt now, faced with the tremendous wealth of her family. She’d had nothing.
Brad and Maya padded back down the hallway to find the kitchen toward the back of the house. It was far bigger than any kitchen Brad had ever seen— even bigger than the kitchen at the elementary school, where lunch ladies made food for hundreds of kids.
“I’m trying to imagine the dinner parties they must have prepared here,” Maya said, hunting through cabinets for tea.
