Page 7 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

Following the directions on my phone, I turned at the second intersection downtown and slowed to inch past an SUV and a pickup truck, both illegally parked in a no-standing zone.

As intent as the town planners had been on creating a Norman Rockwell ideal, they’d apparently ignored the reality that people also needed places to park.

I turned onto Fairview Lane, and eventually the homes petered out, giving way to farmland.

The road became a gravel track that curved back toward the coast a few miles down from Oscar’s property.

Rounding a bend, I saw the house for the first time.

Oscar had mentioned in passing that it once operated as a bed-and-breakfast, but it was far grander than I’d expected.

It was a massive Victorian, likely constructed around the turn of the previous century, with four turrets, large bay windows, and a porch that spanned the front and one side of the house.

It was gray with white trim, and while the paint had begun to flake in places, it appeared otherwise in good condition.

To the left of the house stood a smaller cottage, and behind it I could see a pair of sheds, one larger than the other; on the right was an overgrown formal garden sporting a large fountain filled with stale, algae-choked water.

A sturdy-looking couple in their forties was waiting on the porch to greet me. They were both dressed simply, with the exception of a small heart-shaped locket that hung from the woman’s neck.

“Mr. Donovan?” the woman said, descending the stairs as I climbed out of my car. “I’m Louise Gaston, the caretaker here.” She extended a hand, and we shook before she gestured at the broad-shouldered man beside her. “And this is my husband, Reece. He’s the groundskeeper.”

I introduced myself before she went on. “I hope you were able to find the place easily enough.”

“I did.”

“How about I show you around?”

Reece unloaded my suitcase from the car, but I slung my backpack over my shoulder and toted the cat carrier myself as we followed Louise up into the house.

The front door opened onto an airy wood-paneled foyer, with a parlor to the left and a staircase directly ahead, leading to what I assumed were the bedrooms. Tall windows provided ample natural light, and a large ornate marble fireplace divided the parlor into two seating areas.

I took in patterned sofas, overstuffed chairs, an armoire, a gaming table in the corner, and on the far wall, bookshelves bracketing a large-screen television.

Oriental rugs, elegant coffee tables, and delicate lamps with colorful shades completed the tasteful yet comfortable décor.

As I set down my belongings, I saw Louise’s eyes alight on the cat carrier.

“Is that a cat?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Her name is Paulie.”

Louise looked worried. “Pets aren’t typically allowed in the house.”

“When the arrangements were made, I wasn’t aware of that. Will it be a problem?”

“Hmmm,” she said. “I suppose if we keep it between us, it should be okay. She won’t scratch the furniture, will she?”

“Of course not,” I assured her, thinking, Of course she will. She’s a cat. “But if there are any damages, you have my word that I’ll take care of them.”

“Okay,” she said. “But don’t tell Mr. Aldrich.”

“Mr. Aldrich?”

“The trustee of the estate that owns the property.”

“I won’t.”

· · ·

We started the tour upstairs, where the odor of freshly applied stain suggested that the floors had recently been refinished.

There were six bedrooms in total, Louise explained, each with its own bathroom.

From the top of the stairs, I saw three doors on each side of the hallway, with one door at the end.

Halfway down the left side of the hallway, a small sign hung by a chain from a doorknob that read, The Coast Is Clear!

Louise stopped in front of the door, mentioning that it was the only one that swung outward into the hall, rather than inward into the room.

She added that even though all the rooms had their own bathrooms, this was the only bathroom with a tub, and it could be used by anyone.

Curious, I pulled the door open, flinching at the hinges’ loud, long squeak.

Turning on the light, I was surprised at how modern and spacious it was, with high-quality Italian marble tiling, an elegant antique claw-foot tub with ornate metal hardware, a Villeroy if I was cold, there were extra blankets on the bench at the foot of the bed.

“It’s an old-fashioned house, so why not do things the old-fashioned way, right?” I said good-humoredly.

Louise gave a polite smile. “I’ll come by twice a week to dust, vacuum, and tidy up.

I’ll exchange your sheets and towels, but other than that, I’ll try to honor your privacy, so it feels like your home while you stay here.

” She motioned toward the foyer. “Please keep in mind the front door locks automatically, so if you go outside, remember to bring your keys. If you need anything else, you can usually find me in the cottage.” And with that, she was gone.

Outside, Reece walked me through the formal garden, remarking apologetically that Mr. Aldrich hadn’t released any funds for spring replanting, but that he was trying his best to get him to change his mind.

Same thing with the fountain, he added; the pump had broken, but he was hoping for funds to repair it soon, especially now that the house was going to be open to renters again.

We visited a gazebo and a bench near the edge of the bluff before starting toward the woods, at which point I asked him how long the tour was going to take.

When he explained that the property was twenty acres, I asked if we could do it another time.

To me, that meant never, but Reece simply said, “Of course,” and we returned to the porch, where we said our goodbyes and he handed me the keys.