The Price

Intro | Milkshake Memories

In her rush to reach the ringing telephone, Alice Carter nearly sprawled on the suitcases she'd left in the hallway. She grabbed the receiver on the fourth ring. A sharp voice on the other end spoke her name, and she instantly recognized it. She smiled. "Vanessa?"

For a fleeting second, anxiety gripped her. Had something happened to her mother? Was there an issue with her publisher?

"I've been trying to reach you for over an hour! Where on earth have you been?" Vanessa's voice was heavy with frustration.

Alice took a deep breath. "No cell service. It cut out the moment I drove into this godforsaken town."

Vanessa sighed. "Please, just sell the house quickly. I miss you already."

"I miss you too," Alice replied softly.

"So, how is it? As bad as you imagined? Is there mold? Are you going to have to sleep outside?"

Alice glanced around the dimly lit hallway. "I don't know yet. The house is... well, it's rather... cozy."

"Cozy? Alice, I'm calling you on a landline. A fucking landline!"

Alice chuckled. "I know, it's like stepping back in time. Anyway, I'm going to take a look around. I'll call you back later, okay?"

"Alright, but don't take too long. I want to hear everything." Vanessa insisted.

"I won't. Talk soon." Alice hung up the phone, a mix of excitement and anxiety rising inside her as she prepared to explore the unfamiliar house.

Alice grabbed her remaining suitcases from the car and dragged them into the living room, then slowly spun around, taking in her surroundings. She was now standing in the middle of Margaret Mercer's old home, though, technically, it was hers now.

The room seemed frozen in time, a reflection of the past, filled with antique furniture and faded floral prints. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with porcelain figurines and thick dusty books that looked like they hadn't been touched in decades.

Alice wrinkled her nose, the house came complete with an old-lady smell of lavender and aged wood.

But something about the room seemed... off. She glanced around, trying to pinpoint what felt out of place. Then it hit her: there was no TV. Not even an old, bulky model.

She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. This house, like its former owner, was a relic of the past, clinging to traditions that the world had long since moved beyond.

Margaret had certainly been old-fashioned.

Alice hadn't even known about her passing until two days ago, when a disheveled-looking lawyer had tracked her down. He seemed irritated by the fact that she had moved to a new town four times in the past year, which had made it difficult for him to find her.

The lawyer explained that Margaret, her aunt and her mother's estranged sister, had died and left her the house along with all its furniture. There was also a moderate sum of money, to be split between Alice and her mother, Mabel.

Alice frowned at the thought of her mother, someone she hadn't seen in years. Memories of her time living here flooded back—those two years when her mother couldn't care for her, and Margaret had taken her in. She had gone to school in this town, attended prom here, and for a while Ironwood had felt like home. But when her mother reappeared, ready to take Alice back, things hadn't gone smoothly. Alice, not wanting to hurt her mother, had reluctantly agreed to leave with her, though her aunt had resisted. The fallout between Margaret and her mother had been bitter, and they never spoke again.