Page 11 of The Keeper

The only obvious sign of neglect were the rose bushes growing wild and thorny, almost cautioning potential guests that, yes, while beguiling, this house could hurt. And it could hurt in ways that lingered for years.

Leaving a home to fade away like this should fill me with sadness. Instead, it left me anxious.

“Excuse me, are you Natalie?”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice snapped me out of my reverie. I turned to face a well-dressed man holding a briefcase.

“No, I’m not. She’s inside. Would you like me to get her?”

Before I needed to figure out a way to get the realtor out here without actually going inside, she appeared at the door with Maxim and Killian.

“Ben. Perfect timing,” she exclaimed. “Have you met Ms. Chase yet?”

We all exchanged pleasantries. I learned Ben Arrington was an executive at a local charity called Building As One. Their main focus was refurbishing old, rundown homes and revitalizing neighborhoods that were otherwise neglected. It struck me as odd, since this neighborhood was neither neglected nor in need of revitalization. In fact, Briarcliff Village was known for being upscale and attracted many young professionals from London.

“I’m a little confused,” I said. “Why would a charity want to purchase this property?”

Ben smiled. “One of our well-established benefactors likes to renovate homes like this. Upon completion, the home is put up for sale again, but at a more affordable price point. Briarcliff Cottage has been at the top of their list for years. You can imagine their pleasure upon hearing the owners no longer wanted to retain the property.”

“So, you’re going to renovate it and then sell it again?” I regarded this Ben guy with a hint of suspicion. “You’re basically flipping the house. And why would you resell it at a lower price point? This area is wealthy. I’d assume you’d want to make a profit, not take a loss.”

Killian stepped closer to me, resting his hand at the small of my back. He knew even though I didn’t want to deal with this house or any of the memories that came with it, I’d rather not see it become some low-quality flip.

“I can assure you, our benefactor takes great pride in their work. No corners will be cut. This home will keep its dignity and charm intact.”

I bristled at this guy’s tone. “And who is this benefactor?”

“They prefer to remain anonymous.”

“Convenient,” I scoffed. “That’s not happening. If this person wants to gut my family’s home, I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

“All due respect Ms. Chase, that’s not really how this works.”

“All due respect Mr. Arrington, this house belongs to me. I get to decide what happens to it.”

I silently cursed out my mother for being so hasty with her decision to sell to the highest bidder. She didn’t need the money. None of us did. For all the emotional ups and downs I’d had since receiving the lawyer’s letter, there was still some part of me that desired to hold onto at least one memory.

I’d been so quick to let everything else go: the main house in Westchester County, the beach house, the winter home in Tahoe.

All of it seemed frivolous and trivial after Charlotte died. And I’d been so eager to shed any and all physical traces of the Chase family from my life I let it happen without a second thought.

Why not? My parents were just as eager to strip themselves of any guilt or connection to what happened. They let it all fall to me. Especially my mother.

But this cottage. This felt different. I wouldn’t let it become some project to be gutted and sold.

“Why don’t we go inside and talk all of this out. I’m sure we can come to a compromise,” Natalie suggested.

I glanced up at Killian and over at Maxim. Both had unreadable expressions. I had a feeling they could both sense what was coming next.

“No deal.” I squared my shoulders. “Thanks for the interest but I’m not selling.”

“Maybe this will help.” Max slid a steaming plate of shrimp Alfredo fettuccine in my direction.

We’d arrived back at our rental home about an hour ago after the debacle at Briarcliff Cottage. I was actually pretty hungry, so food was a welcome sight.

“You didn’t have to make this.” I scooped a serving for myself.

“Sure. Because you’d be just fine if I offered you a frozen pizza and a juice box.” Maxim pursed his lips and gave me a healthy dose of side-eye before settling into a chair next to Killian.

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