Snowfalls, Fires, and Family

Snowfalls, Fires, and Family 1

Title: Snowfalls, Fires, and Family

Summary: They had been pulled apart, their mother slowly falling into her mind, when he had been six. But now their mother had died just a month before and her will had asked for them to come together at least one last time to get what she has left behind for them.

They thought they would walk away with a piece of liquidated estate and money for their own lives.

They hadn't expected to find themselves coming back together as siblings. 

Note from me: I hope you enjoy this! I'm not promising how many stories will happen in this, but this first one was written in 6 days (thank you Year of the Novel and your need for word wars) and was edited in less time than that.

I hope you enjoy. :D

Staring up at the house that he had spent a good part of his younger childhood before his family scattered, Tristian pursed his lips. He knew that he was the first one to arrive being the one to own the house since their mother had passed, at least outside of his aunt. Their father hadn't wanted it and hadn't put up a fight beyond getting a few things that had been shoved into the basement.

He could still remember the fights that had happened beyond the front doors of the large Georgian Colonial house before their father had left. He could remember the downwards spiral that their mother had gone until he was nearly seven years old. The pretty two-story front with white trim around the windows and doors, and pillars lining the front hid some dark history.

Shaking his head, he dug around in a pocket, hunting for keys. "When did I find a gumball?" he asked himself, blinking a few times at the round pink ball that he had pulled out of the pocket. Shaking his head, he shoved it back into another pocket, knowing that he'd probably forget about it until he was doing wash and checked the pockets for change. Finding the ring of keys that his aunt had given him at the will reading nearly a month ago, he walked up the path, up the stairs and between the pillars, to the door.

Finding the key, he unlocked the brand new, heavy duty lock and pushed it open. Stepping inside, shifting his duffel bag on his shoulder, his eyes flicked around the hallway, noting that it had changed since the day he had walked out of the house to go on to a new life. Where once it had been rich cream-colored wallpaper, it had been stripped and replaced with a soft coral colored paint.

Looking down at the side table that spanned about three feet of the wall, long but thin, he noticed that it had been stripped, sanded down and varnished in the last year at least. "Aunt Tabby did tell me that mom had started to restore furniture as a money paying hobby," he mused, rubbing his fingers over the table.

Shaking his head, he hung the keys on the hooks that hung over the table and slung his duffel bag onto the floor. He would take care of it later, wanting to make sure that everything was in working condition as his aunt had promised him.

Walking down the short entry way, he turned right and walked into the formal living room, flipping on the lights.

He blinked in surprise at the fact that it had been stripped of the furniture that he could remember being there and that the floors were fake instead of the dinged up wood that had been down. "Must have been where she did the restoration work inside," he mused, heading for the rather large dining room that flowed into the redone kitchen. "She must have been a busy little bee after she lost us. So much changed after she got out and she wanted to show it?"

His lips thinned as his thoughts tried to go down the dark path that they were begging to take. He shook his head and flipped on the lights in the kitchen. A note sat on the bar countertop, most likely from his aunt Tabby.