Page 34 of Heir to a Curse

Chapter 13

We ended the day early after pushing hard to prepare everything for the cabinet install. Countertops would be next, but I had my stone guy on standby for a nice incentive. So as soon as the cabinets were in, they’d be out to measure and cut the stone to fit. The kitchen was coming together, and I couldn’t be happier.

The damaged outer wall was taking more time to repair because we had to find a supplier of the same type of brick used, and apparently the only one who had it was halfway across the country. But we’d cleared out the damage, put up new 2 by 4s, and some insulation wrap, to wait for the arrival of the matching brick.

The guys were thrilled for the early end to the day, planning to stream something after FaceTime calls to their families. When they heard I’d be working on the shrine, they wanted to help, but I waved them off. It was basic stuff. Patching the cracks, sizing the door area, and trying to figure out the best way to create a good element barrier for the door. I even replaced the bulb in the sconce that hadn’t worked the night before.

A handful of roses had bloomed in the wild maze, and before I finished up for the day, I snipped a few and added them beside Sofia’s urn and beneath the unknown name.

As I stepped back into my cabin and realized I had new appliances to install, since I’d had them left in the main room, my phone pinged. I glanced at it, not surprised to find a dozen messages from Mr. Zhao, likely sent before he’d arrived. A few from Addy with completed work invoices or orders placed. And several from Madison. One from Madison with a link to a library book, which appeared to be the translation of the fairytale written by Sofia’s mother. Of course I spent the next hour trying to register for a local library card online, and ending up finding an ebook copy of it through my own library.

Madison’s text said the book was:More a romance than a traditional fairytale.

I wasn’t sure how that worked. Weren’t romances fairytales themselves? Unrealistic representations of love? The translated title actually was “The Dance of Mandarin Ducks.” So, there were ducks in the title.

She had also sent me a handful of pictures, which I flipped through in awe. They were old. Black and white. But appeared to be the original house in its traditional Chinese layout. The only reason I knew it was the old house and not something in China, was the shrine, which looked almost exactly the same. At least on the outside. The one big change, was that the doors on the shrine were different and had appeared to be carved out of solid wood. A few more pictures later, and leaning against a wall in their shop, appeared to be a set of doors that looked just like that.

I sent her a text,Those legit?

She sent back;I think so. They look like the same ones. Found them in the back of the shop. Papa said he bought them a while back from a dealer in the city. Likely has been going place to place for decades. Not really the sort of thing people want to use in their house every day.

That was the sad truth of items stripped from locations with some historical significance. People thought they could sell them to museums or collectors, only when no one wanted them, they had no idea what to do with them.

Would they fit the shrine?

I sent her back,Can I buy them from you?

Hitori is already on the way up with them, she replied.

How much would they set me back? They looked sturdy. Amazingly so. I wondered if it would be wise to coat them in a bit of weather resistant varnish to help protect them from the elements. I had installed a few antique doors in my time. Most protected by an outer storm door, but not all. These didn’t have glass to worry about, only intricate carvings. And I was pretty sure I had some varnish in the truck. Though the doors appeared to have been on hinges rather than glides. I’d have to see if I could get them to fit or have to restructure the doorframe.

Excitement roared in my gut, a bit of pride that I could fix it, restore it to what it used to be, even if there was no one to care but dead people. I finally put my phone aside and got to work putting the appliances together, briefly wondering if there was enough time to get to a grocery store or not. But I received another text, this time from Montana, stating that dinner was ready and he had groceries for me in the garage if I had my fridge installed. I wondered if the small pantry cupboard I’d chosen from Madison’s shop would be enough for basics, and realized I had only a tea set for plate options. Wow, was I scattered or what?

With everything plugged in, and appearing to be working, the fridge cooling and the small oven turning on, I made my way to the main house, grabbing up the basket from two days ago. On the way I collected a few more roses and gave them out as I passed each member of the staff. Jerry and Mike laughed when I gave them each one. Montana turned bright red.

“Not flirting,” I reminded him.

“You could if you want to,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’d have to fire you. Because the whole employer/employee thing is weird. And I like you cooking here. Besides, there have to be better men out there for a young guy like you. Not some crusty, old queen like me.”

“I don’t think you’re crusty or old,” Montana said. “I think you’re very nice.”

“He can also be an asshole,” Mike said, overhearing us. “But don’t let that stop you from liking the boss. He could use someone in his life.”

I thought briefly to the mystery man who’d saved me from the monster and haunted my dreams. Was it odd to want a dream to be real? I’d never been a big believer in fantasies, though I enjoyed plenty of books and movies filled with the stuff. Life was just more complicated than all that.

I had just filled my plate when Hitori arrived.

“I’ll put it in a warming container for you,” Montana offered. “And grab your groceries from the garage. Do your thing.” He waved at me to go to Hitori.

Hitori’s smile showed in his eyes though he wore a mask. I had yet to remove mine as it was becoming so second nature. He handed me a slim book and I glanced at it.

“What’s this?” I asked flipping it open. Pictures, colored pictures, though they were old as the colors had a bit of odd saturation. They were of the old house and shrine. I stared in awe at it all. “Wow.”

“Madison thought you might want it. Her dad dug it out from somewhere. I know the original house isn’t here anymore, but the shrine is, and some of the pieces in the house are still here. I know there’s a desk in Sofia’s old office that they found. I thought it was interesting that they were in color since color photos weren’t common until the sixties and I think this book was printed in the thirties.”

“These are amazing.” The inside of the shrine, which I had expected to be the same, was so much different. There had been a cabinet full of tiny drawers where the fountain now stood, and the tree had not been there at all. “It changed more than I thought.”