Twenty-Eight

A week and a few thousand miles later, James and I find ourselves in the guest room of George and Annie’s house. It hadn’t taken much to convince us to come stay with them, especially considering that we had no idea where to go next.

The entire way there Annie had told me all about the house, but I was still unprepared when we pulled up to it. From what she had described, I was picturing a small cottage with maybe a garden. But the house we pulled up to was more like a mansion complete with a large gate that they had to use a code to get open.

The long driveway was shadowed by trees on either side and when we got to the front doors, there was even a fountain nestled in the grassy loop of the driveway.

Annie and George started to pull bags from the trunk while James and I just stared. Eventually Annie noticed and asked, “what’s wrong?”

I gesture to the house, “this is not what I was expecting.”

“Oh,” Annie laughs. “Trust me this is not our style at all. My great aunt Gertrude left