Madelyn "Lyn" Creeke and her grandmother were the last of their family. At least, that's what Lyn's grandmother always led her to believe.
Lyn had never heard of or seen pictures of Georgina Creeke, a great aunt that had been living a few hours awa...
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"Marshall?" I opened up the door to find my appraiser admiring the porch columns. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm..." He looked around, one brow cocked and his mouth twisted into an uncertain smile. "I'm here to appraise? You know, to do the job you've been asking me to do for almost a month now?"
"Huh? Oh!" I slapped a palm to my forehead. "Right, it's Monday now, isn't it? You said you'd be back on Monday."
"I know you wanted me here sooner, but it really was just crazy at my house for the holidays." Despite his words, he seemed pleased with the craziness as I invited him in. "I hope you had a good Thanksgiving."
"Yeah." I took his coat and hung it up in the closet by the door. "I made some pies, and we hosted the county's House of Hope here for dinner."
"You made pies?" He chuckled as he pulled out a tablet to take notes. "And you hosted? I expected you to say you curled up in bed all day and binged on Netflix. Heck, I would have expected to hear you say you worked all day before believing you actually cooked a dinner." After a light laugh, he quickly added. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. I think it's great you got to have a nice Thanksgiving. Just not what I expected."
I cleared my throat and looked over at the sitting room. "Well, I suppose we should get started."
"Yes, we should." His tone shifted into a more professional timbre. "I would have been here sooner, but I had other clients already scheduled for today."
"No reason to apologize," I said, waving his words away. "I appreciate you squeezing me in."
"I'm just glad we can finally do this. Wasn't sure anyone was going to pry the keys out of that caretaker's hands. I hope your great aunt never let him around guests. He had a horrible disposition, which I'm sure you saw."
"I... he's really not all that bad," I answered, my voice cracking with guilt. "He's just very protective of this house, and he was very close to my aunt." I then swallowed and cast my eyes around, fearful he might be lurking in a corner. "He's also still employed here."
"Oh," said Marshall with a little bounce, "my apologies. He just..."
"I know," I said, raising a hand. "I understand, but we've reached a truce. So no more hard feelings."
"Right," he replied with a smile, "well, I'm glad he's not causing you anymore problems."
"I'm not sure about that." I mumbled the words to myself as we stepped into the sitting room.
We circled through the first floor. Marshall marveled at the historic Dutch colonial accents, but was also quick to notice the more recent modifications and additions. In particular, he spotted the expansion in the dining room. He did, however, respect the fact that Gina had Jordan keep the original floorboards instead of replacing them completely, even if a slight seam stood out in the flooring. We then went upstairs, where we skipped the current guest's room, but checked in everywhere else. As for my room, I ran into it to do a real quick clean up so that there was no sign of my makeshift mattress. Finally, we headed out to the grounds, where in the distance, we could hear Jordan working with a saw in the workshop.
