Page 2 of Follow Her Down
The key turns in the lock, and the door swings inward on its own, as if pulled by invisible hands.Meredith steps back, letting me enter first, and I step over the threshold.
The air inside feels thick and cold.It smells of dust and something else, something sweetly chemical beneath the mustiness.When Meredith hits the lights, I see that the foyer is cavernous, with peeling wallpaper and a grand staircase rising into shadows.A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, gray with cobwebs.
The house breathes around me, in, out, the sound of settling wood.
Meredith hovers near the door, not coming fully inside.“As you can see, it’s quite spacious.Four bedrooms upstairs, two bathrooms.The kitchen was updated in the nineties.”
“And the basement?”I ask.
Her smile freezes.“Oh, there is one, yes.But it’s not…accessible at the moment.The door is sealed for safety reasons.”
But Meredith, sweetie, remember five seconds ago?When you said the structure is sound?That the inspector found no major issues?
Shaking my head, I walk deeper into the house, my wet shoes leaving prints on the wooden floor.In the sitting room, rain lashes against tall windows.Lightning flickers, casting my shadow, long and distorted, against the wall.For a second, it doesn’t look like my shadow at all.
“Tell me why the basement is sealed,” I demand without turning around.
Silence stretches between us.I can almost hear Meredith calculating how much truth to tell me.
“It’s probably nothing serious,” she finally says.“A leak, some mold.The previous owners decided it wasn’t worth fixing before they left.”
I wonder how many lies she’ll tell before we’re done here.
I move to the staircase, running my hand along the banister.The wood is smooth beneath my fingers, polished by years of hands.How many?Whose?I imagine them all—families, children, lovers, ghosts—touching this same spot where my hand now rests.
“Tell me about the previous owners,” I say.
“The Mulligans?Lovely couple.He was in finance, I believe.They had to relocate for his job.”
I turn to face her.Her mascara has started to run, leaving faint black trails down her cheeks.
“And before them?”
Meredith shifts her weight from one foot to the other.“I’d have to check the records.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”I step closer.“You know exactly who lived here and when they left.And why.”
She glances toward the front door, seeming to calculate the distance.“Ms.Vale, if you’re not serious about the property—“
“I’ll take it.”I pull an envelope from my purse.“Cash.Like we discussed.”
Meredith stares at the envelope, conflict clear on her face.Responsibility versus commission.Warning me versus washing her hands of whatever happens next.
“Are you sure you don’t want a second viewing?”she asks, even as she reaches for the envelope.“Perhaps once the weather clears—“
“I don’t need a second viewing.”I hand her the envelope.“I already know what this house is.”
She holds the envelope like it may bite her.“And what is that?”
I smile, all teeth.“Exactly what I need.”
Meredith opens the portfolio on a small table by the door, her movements jerky.Papers appear—contracts, disclosures, all the bureaucracy that’s supposed to make this transaction normal.We pretend together, two women performing a ritual of signatures and initials while thunder growls outside.
“You’ll need to sign here.And here.”She points with a manicured finger that trembles slightly.“This is the disclosure about the basement.By signing, you acknowledge that you’ve been informed not to enter it until proper remediation can be completed.”
I sign without reading.The basement is exactly why I bought this place.
When all the papers are signed, Meredith hands me a set of keys with obvious relief.“Congratulations, Ms.Vale.The house is yours.”
