Page 8 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“Mallory, she left you a house. Pebble Cottage. Down in Reina Beach.”
I’m silent for so long that Uncle Eddy clears his throat.
“Mallory? You know Pebble Cottage, right? The house your mom and Trish grew up in?”
My brain whirs like an overheated computer. “Uh… yeah? I mean, why—why me? Lottie had five grandkids.”
“Well… As I understand it, it’s because your sister, Maeve, is married and settled, and the other kids are still in school.”
“Ellie’s in college, and she already lives in Florida. Why not leave it to her? Or to Mom or Trish?” I take a deep breath and realize I need to sit down, so I do, on the kitchen floor. “Uncle Eddy… are you sure she meant to leave it to me specifically?”
He lets out a booming laugh. “Of course! She left Pebble Cottage to Mallory Rosen. Clear as day.”
As I sit cross-legged on the floor, my gaze lingers on the floating shelf above the microwave. That shelf is the extent of my home maintenance experience. It took me a month to decide what to put in that spot, two weeks to commit to buying the shelf, and countless hours of YouTube tutorials before I felt confident enough to drill into the wall. And then I accidentally drilled a hole the size of a quarter and had to call my dad to come and help me fix it. That shelf is currently telling me that I am in no way qualified to be the owner of Pebble Cottage.
“But, Eddy, a house is…” I trail off. A house is a lot of things. A huge responsibility. An even bigger surprise. A windfall. And, now that I’m wrapping my brain around it, it’s an honor that Lottie choseme. “Well, I’m honored,” I say finally.
“Of course, there are some stipulations,” Eddy says.
Wait, what?
I’m wary of whatever he’s going to say next. Lottie had her own particular way of doing things. It was always her way or the highway.
“In exchange for the house, Lottie has requested that you look after Leonard. And that you not sell the house, uh, while Leonard is still alive.”
A ringing silence follows these words. I don’t know what to say. This is so Lottie.
“I see,” I say slowly. “But… what does that mean exactly, look after Gramps? Doesn’t he live in a senior community? Aren’t there people to look after him?”
“It’s an independent living community. There are staff, like house cleaners and nurses, but I think Lottie wanted to make sure someone would see that he’s doing okay. That he’s not too lonely, that he’s taking care of himself. That kind of thing.”
“That makes sense.” But what doesn’t make sense is, again,why me? I’m starting to get heart palpitations. If one single, solitary shelf is the extent of my homeowner qualifications, my qualifications as the caretaker of a grandpa are nonexistent. I don’t even own a plant.
I say the first thing that occurs to me next: “But I live in Seattle.”
“I know. I’m just the messenger here. Maybe she was hoping you would live in the house.”
This is so unexpected, it takes me a second to articulate a response. I settle on “The house has tenants, doesn’t it?”
“Well, she had tenants. Their lease is ending next week, and they’re not renewing. Maybe they were only staying for Lottie. But the mortgage was paid off ages ago.”
I have so many questions, I don’t know which ones to ask first.
“Does Gramps know about this arrangement?”
“He knows Lottie left the house to you. That’s it. But your folksknow about it and all. I’ll send over some documents with all the particulars.”
“Okay.”Details.Suddenly my mind floods with all the details I’m going to have to think about. Insurance. Maintenance. Taxes.
“All right, so if you have any questions, call me up. Okay, Mal?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Eddy.”
A few minutes later, I sit down with my smoothie and my oat milk latte and read through the documents from Eddy. There are a couple of things I’m supposed to sign. It’s all in legalese. I don’t understand a word of it.
Luckily, I know some lawyers.
Chapter 5
