Page 4 of Heir to a Curse

Chapter 2

Idumped the papers and tablet into the cab of the truck, stuffed my mask into my pocket, and unlocked the toolbox in the bed to pull out some gloves and trimmers. The path around the house was overgrown as well. I wondered about the gardener and made a mental note to talk to Mr. Yamamoto about the lack of work that seemed to be done in the yard.

The back of the house flowed from a section of sprawling patio, to a small area of grass and then a wall of rose bushes. The bushes formed a mini maze centered around a small fountain. I could see over the bushes when they weren’t in full bloom, but right now they were a barrier of green dotted with a rainbow of color. Less than ten years old, the mini maze had been one of my favorite projects. Sofia had the idea, and I gave it life. I could tell I’d need to do a bit of trimming there as well as I made my way around to the stone footpath out toward the little lakeside.

The small curve that led to the cabin and footbridge across to the shrine, which sat on a small island separated by less than twenty feet of water from the shore, was overgrown to the point of being completely blocked. Odd how the trail of green brush had snaked upward to engulf the wooden bridge even over water. I stared at it for a moment, thinking plants didn’t normally do that. Not that it mattered. It would still need to be cleared.

The cabin was etched with ivy and overgrown branches. In the distance I could see the shrine was much the same. I suspected I’d be restoring the shrine while I was here as well. Letting it fall into disrepair was disrespectful.

I began trimming back the branches, tugging away the ivy, and piling it all up in the center of the path to haul back later. This wasn’t a couple months of overgrowth. This was years of neglect. And while I was happy to be here, I would definitely be having a discussion with Mr. Yamamoto about hiring a new gardener. None of this should have been neglected like this. I’d be lucky if I didn’t have to replace the entire footbridge due to wood rot. Though when I’d repaired it the last time, I’d coated it in heavy weather-resistant stain. I’d have to see how the slats fared during the brutal winters of snow and the summers of forest reclaiming.

It took a bit of work to clear the path to the cabin door. It was supposed to be a caretaker’s cabin. Though the style for decorating still appeared Japanese, the outside was sturdy enough to withstand the harsh New York winters. I recalled the inside being more traditional. I paused for a minute to dig through the keys I’d been given and opened the door.

The inside of the cabin was dark, mostly empty, windows overgrown with so much ivy the light was almost completely blocked. I stepped inside carefully to check the floor. It barely creaked. No roof leaks that I could find, nor did there appear to be any signs of wildlife having moved in. Other than a few spiders.

Apparently the structure was holding up well despite the assault of elements. It would need some major cleaning, and I’d likely have to install some sort of heating/cooling unit as the small fireplace would not be enough in winter, but I could make this a nice space again.

I flicked the light switch, expecting the power to be off, but lights roared to life, revealing the thick bamboo floor and wide room broken up by free standing screens rather than walls. I could imagine a few minor updates that would conform with the traditional Japanese layout, while modernizing it for comfort. The bathroom was small and functional, kitchen little more than a counter with a hotplate, and the living area meant to be a mix of bedroom and living room, but I could make it work. In the meantime, this was more than functional for my needs while I worked on the house and decided what came next.

The pandemic had slowed business, and while I had a sizable rainy day fund, it wouldn’t last forever. I had a half dozen properties I rented out, some with rent on hold because they couldn’t afford to pay during a pandemic. Others were secure enough to remain a lasting income, though small as it might be. My own place had been a tiny, above-garage unit at Addy’s place. Since I traveled so much, spent a lot of time in hotels while working, or even sleeping in my truck, it didn’t make sense to settle down. Though I wondered if maybe it was time for that.

I knew a lot of contractors who went the opposite route, buying or building giant homes for themselves, worth millions, while using the bare minimum on the places they worked. It wasn’t my style. I did high quality work with top-of-the-line products. And while I wasn’t the cheapest contractor around, my rates were reasonable and adjusted to the homeowner’s income level. Which meant my profits weren’t soaring. But at least I slept well at night. Inheriting a million dollar home would not change that.

Sofia had wanted the main house to be a place of happiness and joy. Perhaps the curse had passed with her. I know she hoped it would. Then maybe I’d be able to turn the house into what she wanted it to be. Casting off all the old painful memories the walls had accrued over the years. The house needed to be a home again, at the very least. Useful, instead of a giant mausoleum of misfortune. That was my goal.

Near the back of the main area stood a tall cabinet, beautifully carved, with an elegant curve and rich dark wood I knew had to be imported. A few books remained on the shelves, and a single little wood statue.

I walked over to it to examine it closer, not remembering it from days of old. The statue looked like a little dragon, Asian style, longer body, wrapped up a bit like a snake, perhaps? There was a string on the end and when I picked it up, it was heavy. Only about the size of my hand, I was surprised by the weight and the detail. If it was real wood, it was in remarkable shape. The books on the shelf beside it were covered in dust, and yellowing, simply a few abandoned novels, likely from the last person to have stayed in the cabin. But the statue was dust free.

I put the little dragon in my pocket, making a mental note to talk to Mr. Yamamoto about it. With one last glance around the cabin, I headed back out to the path. There was a job to be done.

The pile of debris I’d created was now strewn about the path. I frowned at it and looked up, trying to estimate the wind, but felt nothing. In fact, everything was silent. No birds, bugs, or even rustling of leaves. I frowned and stepped back to the path, listening for another minute. Was something out there? Like a bear or a mountain lion? Those could make everything quiet. Well, except for the wind.

Silence stretched a few more minutes. Oddly, I felt like someone was watching me. But when I scanned all around with my gaze, I couldn’t find anyone or anything. Perhaps the ancestors? I hoped there was incense inside the shrine. I’d light some in offering when I got there.

I couldn’t say I knew a ton about Sofia’s ancestry, or even the thought process. Having grown up in foster care and the white-washed American school system, I knew only a little more than the basics about other cultures. When I had spare time I did a lot of reading, though I admitted to preferring fiction over non-fiction. But I’d made the effort to pick up a few books that weren’t just light reading. No one knew what I was. My skin a bit too tan to be plain white, but blue eyes meant that there was something European in my blood. Sofia speculated I might have Native American bloodlines, and offered to do one of those DNA things for me, but I’d declined. It was a can of history I wasn’t ready to open yet. Maybe in a few years when I was settled down and the idea of a broken past didn’t bother me so much. For now I was just me, whatever mutt that meant I was, and okay with it. Sofia had said I’d be added to her family tree regardless. And I guess she’d made sure of that. Giving me the giant house and entrusting me with care of the shrine.

I kicked the pile back into place, and went back to working on the path and the bridge. I was sweating hard and halfway across the bridge when sound returned. A rolling of gentle waves, despite the fact that I’d been standing on the bridge all along, and a soft rustle of leaves from the wind. Even a bird or two chirped somewhere off in the distance. The slats to the bridge remained in good shape. A few of the lower ones seemed to have taken a bit of water damage from past floods, but those handful would be easy to replace.

Dragging another pile of green back to my growing heap I thought I saw something in the window of the cabin. Was someone in there? I stomped that way, not sure how anyone would have gotten past me out here, but when I flung the door open, the space was quiet and empty. Trick of the light maybe? I really needed to clear those windows.

The sudden sound of footsteps behind me had me spinning around fast.

“Fuck,” I cursed, finding Jerry and Mike, both with gloves and tools in hand.

“Wow, boss,” Jerry said, “you okay?”

I put my hand to my chest. “You could have given me a heart attack.”

“Nah. You’re not that old. And you eat too healthy for that. Dunno how you got so big eating like that.”

Mike laughed and nodded his head. “He doesn’t know construction means fast food on the go.”

“I pack lunches,” I said. “Habit from growing up.” When you never knew where your next meal was coming from, you learned how to plan ahead. The fact that I was over six feet tall and often hit on as a ‘bear’ the few times I’d gone clubbing, wasn’t something I could change. Lots of bone structure and natural padding. I patted my stomach, “Some people like this.”

Jerry laughed hard, “That’s the boss man, attracting all the twinks.”

“How do you even know what a twink is?” I demanded.