Page 5 of My Inherited House Might be Haunted

I hung up. “First, I must figure out gender and name, then all the vet appointments need to happen,” I said to the cat. “Right now, let me go close a safe, then I can at least find you a bowl for water. Sound good?”

Cat gave me a slow blink.

“Aww, you trust me already? Well, I’m a sucker for cats. I guess you can sense that.”

I gingerly knelt and petted my kitty some more, kind of trying to sus out if I could lift and carry my new feline companion. Some cats absolutely did not do the lifting thing, while others wanted to be held like a baby. No logic to be found here, folks.

Cat did not mind whatsoever being picked up. In fact, as soon as I stood, they rearranged themselves until I had a cat draped over one shoulder, purrs to be heard from miles away. Welp, this one was clearly not feral.

“All right, then.” I walked back to the library, putting the sword in the umbrella stand, as I didn’t see any signs of an intruder and I was already one hand down. Kitty had claimed hand.

The safe’s door was still wide open, and I went to it with the intent of closing it and replacing the painting, but something caught my eye. There was a red-looking diary sitting on the top shelf, and on it was a sticky note that said: RHETT READ FIRST.

What was this?

I picked it up, then turned and braced it on the desk so I could use one hand to flip the cover over. Now that was definitely my great-aunt’s handwriting. The flowing, elegant cursive was something I could identify a mile away.

Rhett,

Welcome home!This book is something I wrote to tell you everything you need to know about the house.

Aww. Aunt Ruth had written me a manual? About the house? That was so like her. I felt the love and grief for that amazing woman tangle like a knot in my chest. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. I’d mourned her enough. Now, I wanted to celebrate the legacy she left me.

After I battled the tears back, I read the next line.

Now, first, don’t panic about the ghosts. They’re friendly.

Excuse the fuck out of me. WHAT?!

I paused in the reading because I felt like this was going to be an absolute doozy. Instead, I put kitty down, ran to my car, hauled in suitcases and computer, ran back to the car and parked it in the carriage house—yes, the Victorian was an 1800s build, so there was a very elaborate carriage house—then ran back inside. I got kitty situated with a bowl of water, then for the first time ever in my adult life, sat down and ordered for groceries and cat supplies to be delivered. I just didn’t have the patience to go get everything myself, not when there was a mystery at hand.

ThenI went back to the library, sat my ass down in the comfy chair, and my entire attention went back to the diary/letter Aunt Ruth had written me.

Right. Let’s read that line again.

Now, first, don’t panic about the ghosts. They’re friendly.

Somehow, reading this a second time still didn’t magically make me feel better. Imagine that.

Swallowing hard, I kept reading.

The house is very old, as you know, built in 1802 by Franklin Cartwright for his family. He was a lumber baron and very, very good at what he did. So good, in fact, that his family was able to keep this house up until I bought it sixty years ago. Rather astounding.

Anyway, the family’s still here. Franklin, his wife, Abigail, and three children—Sophia, Maddison, and Rupert. They all died in the house—

Oh my god, don’t tell me that.

—but like I said, they’re very friendly. I’ve had many a talk with them over the years. I told them you would get the house next, and they seemed fine with that, but you should absolutely say hello so as to not offend them. Oh, and leave the TV on when you leave for work. They get bored. The sci-fi channel seems to be their favorite. Either that or a good mystery show.

I think once you all settle, you’ll get along swimmingly.

Now, your neighbor across the street in the blue house is a retired cop, and very friendly. If something happens, I’d go directly there.

Aunt Ruth! Oh my god, don’t go from talking about ghosts to casually telling me about the neighbors! What the hell’s wrong with you?!

I slumped dramatically over the chair’s arm, my head swimming. I’d had a witch friend in high school—I was very aware there were all sorts of things that go bump in the night—but I didn’t want tolivewith them, dammit. By moving into this house, was I going to be doing a lot of seeing? Because I didn’t know how to feel about that.

Two dainty paws landed on my thigh.

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