Page 12 of Somewhere You Belong

“Of course, Mr. MacDonald.”

He turns to face me, and his eyebrows rise as he takes in my dress. “Well, hello there.”

“Hello.” I stand to greet him, extending my hand. “Willow Marshall.”

And then his eyes widen in recognition. “Well, what a pleasure it is to meet you in person, Miss Marshall. Please, follow me.”

He takes a seat behind a cluttered desk as we enter his office, file folders stacked high and papers strewn about. In a rush, he clears a few stacks to the side and pulls a file from the stack, slapping it on his desk.

“I have to say, you are not what I was expecting.” He rests his hands over his bulging belly.

“How so?”

“Well, when Mr. Sheppard made this decision, he always spoke of you as this little girl.” He shakes his head and then chuckles. “I guess thatwasa long time ago. But in my mind, I guess I still pictured you as that little girl with pigtails.”

“No pigtails for me these days, sir.” A twinge of sadness grips my chest, but I unclench the hold it has on my heart and push it away.

He laughs louder this time. “I understand.” I watch him take out a few papers from the folder, turning them to face me so I can read them. I lean over the desk, placing my hands on the surface as I peer down atthe words on the paper. “Well, let’s get down to it. Obviously, you’ve already read the letter since you’re sitting here before me.” I nod. “So, let’s take a look at what you’ve inherited.”

“I don’t need anything from this man, Mr. MacDonald.” I shake my head, feeling my nerves build with uncertainty the longer I sit here. “I don’t even know him.”

“Willow,” he says, reaching over and placing his hand on mine, the gesture so foreign that I instantly retreat, pulling my hand back. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m not trying to be overbearing…”

“Just tell me why I’m here, please,” I say over the lump in my throat, growing more anxious the longer I sit here in limbo.

“Mr. Sheppard, upon his death, wished to leave you with something.” He pulls a paper from the stack and places it closer to me. “This is the deed to his house.”

“What?” I gasp as my heart begins to hammer harder.

“The property sits right along the coast. It’s isolated and a very sought-after piece of land.”

“I—I don’t understand.” My eyes continue to scan the paper as my brain scrambles to absorb the words Mr. McDonald just uttered.

“Now the house needs some work,” he says, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands on his belly again, intertwining his fingers and completely disregarding my response. “But I have to tell you, I think it’s worth the investment. Even if you don’t keep it, fixing it up and selling it will get you top dollar in this real estate market.”

I slink back in the chair, my jaw dropping slightly. “He leftmea house? Why?”

Mr. MacDonald nods. “He did. Brand new appliances have been installed per another stipulation upon his death. The electricity, gas, and water have also been activated. I have no idea what else is inside,but if you’d like to take a look, I have time to take you there.” He pulls a key from a small envelope and places it in front of me.

“I…”

“I know you must have many questions, but you read the letter, dear.” He tilts his head to the side, smiling softly at me.

And then the words from the letter replay in my mind.

And a fresh new wave of anger mixed with guilt comes crashing down on me.

***

“See? The bones are good.” Timothy—he insisted we be on a first name basis as we left his office—leads me deeper into the home that has seen better days as he knocks on a wall that separates the kitchen from the living room. And as soon as the sound rings out, all I can think about is how that wall would look better with a hole cut out so you can see through the two rooms. Layers of dirt cake the floors and counters, and sheets cover old furniture in the open space. I honestly feel like I’m walking through a haunted house, even if it does have a beautiful view of the ocean rather than a forbidden forest.

“Um, sure,” I respond, taking it all in.

“It originally belonged to Mr. Sheppard’s grandparents. He loved this house, but it couldn’t accommodate his growing family, so he just held on to it. It’s been empty for years.”

I turn to see him watching me as I stand in the center of the room. “I just…I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”

“Understandable.” He shrugs. “But my job was just to draw up the paperwork so his wishes were carried out. Beyond that, I’m afraid I can’t offer much.”

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