Page 23 of Scary In Love
“It’s a good way to make money fast. I’ve worked a few Halloween events in the past, so I figured I could give it a go. Spent a few weeks designing the rooms, and here we are.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
It mightsoundeasy, but I drained the little savings I had to get up and running. Luck comes and goes in the blink of an eye. I know that better than anyone, but I didn’t invite Jenna here to trauma dump on her.
“It’s a gamble. I’m hoping it pays off.”
“Why not sell it?”
I can’t help but laugh, because that’s what the lawyer, and pretty much all of my friends, told me to do when I heard the news. “That would be the smart thing to do. After taxes and all the legal fees I inherited, I’d still have a lot leftover—”
“Oh, just a few million, I’m sure. How on earth would you cope?” Jenna prods me gently in the stomach. In a flash, I grab her wrist and keep her hand there, pressing it flat against me. She looks down at it, but doesn’t pull away.
“Right? I could travel, buy a flat in London and stop living in grubby house shares, start a business.” The list of possibilities is endless, but none of them would make me happier than making this place a home.
Though I was technically an adult when my dad died, his loss quickly showed me I knew fuck all about being a grown-up. In the years since, I’ve had too many addresses to count, and not a lot of stability. Friends have come and gone as quickly as jobs, and I’ve never entertained thoughts of the future, because what’s the point when you don’t know how much future you’ve got.
“Something made you stay.”
“Yeah, I mean, look around. I didn’t feel like I could just sign it away to someone else. I had someone from an auction house visit to value the furniture, but I don’t want to sell things off if I can help it. These things were here long before me. They deserve to stay.”
She hums softly and lets go of me, pressing the same palm to her chest.
“You’re a good custodian. I’ve seen a lot of people move their family members into our care and dump their furniture. Those things hold memories, and not everyone gets it.”
“That’s really sad. I figured I could live here for a year and then make a more permanent decision about the future of the estate. There’s a lot of land, mostly woodland and overgrown meadows, but there’s potential, I’m sure of it.”
She goes back to the maps and drawings, her face lighting up as she reads through my scrappy notes.
“You know the house is legendary around here? People have been curious about it for decades. You could open it up for tours all year round.”
“Everyone knows the real draw of those places is tea and scones. It would take a lot of work to fit an industrial kitchen, add toilets, make everything properly accessible. I’m just one person, with limited cash flow, but I need to come up with something or I’ll end up having to sell it anyway.”
“That would be a shame.”
“Why’s that?”
She drops a hand on my shoulder and squeezes softly. “Who’ll keep me company on my morning coffee walks?”
14
Jenna
Mason’splansareincredible,and I’m so grateful he’s taken the time to show them to me. I follow the sketched route through the rooms again, this time paying special attention to his notes on where the actors enter and leave. If I hadn’t already visited, I’d be spoiling the experience for myself, but this is a level of detail most people don’t get to see.
Next to the floor-plans, he’s drawn the Miller family tree, and I trace them back through the centuries.
“The old family bible has marriage records in it, so I managed to piece a bit of history together starting with…” He leans in, tapping the paper right next to my finger. “Archibald Miller.”
I stare down at our hands, willing him to shift just a little to the left.
“You made them the story. That’s clever.”
“I mapped out the names and dates, but there wasn’t much else to go on. The family kept to themselves, but I knew there’d be a lot of intrigue, so it made sense to base the story on them. They probably weren’t evil monsters, but the truth is often scarier than fiction, right?”
“I’m just glad you didn’t go with zombies,” I laugh.
“Not a fan?” He hooks his pinky over mine, brushing it gently.
