Liz sank her teeth into the ham sandwich. She was in a hurry to get to Angel’s Rest while there was still some sunlight, but she’d been so hungry she figured she’d better stop first so she wouldn’t be in a rush once she got there.
The Creekside Café hadn’t disappointed. The lunch was good, and folks were just as welcoming as she remembered, and it wasn’t just because of her grandparents either, because no one knew her. Not yet, anyway.
Conversation from the lunch crowd hung in the air, accented by the occasional clank from the flattop grill on the other side of the counter. By the looks of things, this café had to have been here when she was a kid. The old black-and-white floor tiles looked original, and those chrome red-topped stools at the counter looked straight out of the sixties.
She was glad the heavily bearded man had recommended the ham sandwich. She’d definitely order it again.
Maizey, the waitress who’d been kind enough to share some of the local attractions, came back over to check on her. “Everything good?”
“Delicious. You’ll definitely be seeing me again.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Maizey, an older lady with one of those hairdos that look like they were done at the salon, teased and sprayed, rested a hand on the back of Liz’s chair. “Besides the new candle factory, and the antique mall, we are kind of known for our waterfalls in the spring and summer. We also have a new jeweler that’s working at the gem mine. He can cut and set the stones you find down there, but he does gold and diamond work too. He moved here from New York City. Really nice guy.”
“Thanks. I’ll definitely have to check that out. Seems like you do a good business around here.”
“Locals mostly, but we’ve been getting more tourists the last couple of years. I think country living has finally become cool again.”
“Did that ever go out of style?”
“Not around here, thankfully.” The waitress smiled. “My name is Maizey. Anything you need you just let me know.”
“I will. Thank you.” Liz could tell Maizey’s offer was sincere. She could picture herself having meals here at the Creekside Café each day until she got moved in too. Just like one of the locals. “I’m Liz. Very nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Maizey flitted from customer to customer.
A moment later she was back to refill Liz’s sweet tea, and leave the check.
Liz took a big sip of her tea. It was the real deal. Just sweet enough to feel like dessert, like Gram used to make.
The faces at the tables around her were those of hardworking blue-collar folks—most certainly locals, but there were others who, like her, seemed to be passing through for the day. A nice mix. She liked this town.
Liz paid her check and went outside. Her shiny black Range Rover looked out of place with its side-view mirrors all tucked in like a scolded puppy. She hit the button on her key fob. The mirrors moved out and the engine rumbled to life. She climbed into her vehicle and sat there for a moment taking in the surroundings. The cheerful blue awnings over the front windows of the café looked new. The sign was framed in blue, with CREEKSIDE CAFÉ in fat water-blue lettering. On the telephone pole in front of her, a flyer for a bluegrass-music festival that had happened two weekends ago fluttered in the breeze.
I’m going to be a part of this town. Just thinking about it made her nearly light-headed. Antler Creek had always felt like home to her; now it would be.
She picked up her phone and dialed the local contact for the house again. Finally, someone answered.
“Hi, hello. This is Liz Westmoreland. I bought the house on Doe Run Road at auction this morning. I’ve been trying to get through all morning. I was beginning to think I had the wrong number.”
“Sorry,” the woman said. “We don’t open the office until noon on Fridays this time of year. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to get a key to the house so I can take a look at it. Can you help me?”
“Oh gosh, the viewing period ended on Wednesday. We don’t allow people in once it’s been sold. It generally just goes straight to the new owner once all the paperwork has gone through.”
She understood that process, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I actually didn’t get to see the place before I bought it, and I’m just dying to get inside and look around. I don’t mind showing some identification.”
“You do realize that the property was sold as-is, where-is. There’s no backing out.”
“Of course, no I would never.” Liz could tell the lady took her rules seriously. “My grandparents used to own the place. You can’t imagine how excited I am about this. Can you please bend the rules? I’ll sign something taking responsibility. Whatever you need.”
“Your grandparents?”
“Yes. They owned Angel’s Rest.”
“My goodness.” The woman sighed. “I guess it don’t really matter much. Not like you can hurt anything. And everyone loved your grandparents around here. I’m sure they’d make an exception for you.”
Liz could hear the woman rummaging around for something.
“Okay, there’s a lockbox on that place. I’ll give you the code. My boss is out fishing this afternoon. If he disapproves of me giving it to you, don’t be surprised if that code won’t work tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. Thank you so much.”
“Got a pen? It’s one of those push-button jobs.”
Liz pulled the pen from the front pocket of her purse. “Got one.”
The woman rattled off the code, which Liz immediately recognized as the address. She could have just said so.
“Congratulations on your purchase,” the woman said.
“Thank you again.” Liz hung up the phone more excited than before.
With the code in hand she left the café and turned right on Main Street. It was only a short distance to the road up the mountain, which seemed steeper than she remembered. No one else was on the road, so she slowed and took her time around the next bend—a hairpin turn. She white-knuckled the steering wheel, but was relieved to know she was getting close to her destination.
There used to be a big cleared-off area to the left that backed up to a farm with a few cows and a ton of goats. It had always been the landmark that helped her find Angel’s Rest, but she didn’t remember it being this far.
The leaves nearly covered this stretch of Doe Run Road after all the wind and rain last night. She slowed down, peering over the steering wheel, hoping she was going to be able to stay on the pavement.
“I’m coming home, as soon as I find it,” she joked to herself.
Then, she slammed on her brakes to keep from driving right past the mailbox. It had seen better days, but it was definitely the mailbox Pop had built. The concrete pillar with the river rock was still there, although it could use a good cleaning. Most of it was green from the moss that had taken up residency, and the mailbox that had once been a to-scale replica of one of the cabins out back had deteriorated so much it mostly looked like rotted wood that had fallen on top of the old rural-size metal mailbox.
She turned in to the driveway. The property was overgrown in the auction picture, but it was even worse now.
It will be beautiful again.
She tried to ignore the doubt that filled her as she parked and got out. The wraparound porch always looked so inviting lined up with colorful rocking chairs. Now leaves huddled in the corner.
Sadly all of the windows had been boarded over too. It made sense. They certainly wouldn’t want vandals tearing up the place when the house wasn’t being tended to. On a positive note, she’d have the boards to do something with. Those sheets of plywood weren’t cheap. Pop used to cut shapes from big pieces like that with his scroll saw. Put together, they looked like reindeer. He’d even sold a bunch of them to other people in the town. She wondered if she might see some of Pop’s artwork on people’s lawns this Christmas.
She stepped back and surveyed the house. The metal roof was new. The logs had darkened over the years, but that was to be expected.
On a positive note, the place didn’t look like it was getting ready to crumble into a heap of termite dust. Thank goodness, because Dan’s comments had kept her up all night.
And no sooner had Dan crossed her mind than her phone rang, and it was Dan’s ringtone.
“Hi, Liz.” Dan’s voice came over the line. “I was going to see if I could use your SUV for the day. I’ve got two showings this evening with an older couple.”
“Sorry. Can’t do it this time,” she said.
“What? Really?” He laughed. “No, you’re kidding, right?”
It struck her that it might actually be the first time she hadn’t accommodated him. “No. I’ve got plans in Antler Creek today.”
“Why?” He grunted. “You’re not still chasing down that property, are you?”
His righteous tone annoyed her. “No. I don’t need to chase it down,” she said, determined to not let him get to her. “It’s already mine.”
“Didn’t I tell you that was a horrible idea?” he said, spacing the words evenly.
“You shared your opinion, and you clearly stated it more times than was necessary, but you’ll recall it was my decision to make. I made it, and I was the winning bidder.”
Silence hung on the line. “Can I ask what you gave for it?”
“No, but I’m happy with it, and that’s all that matters. It’s a great investment in my future.”
“If it was an investment property you were looking for you know I could have sold you something that you truly could have made some money on.”
She countered icily. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
“Fine. I won’t say another word about it.”
“That’s not the same thing as being happy for me.”
“Look. I know you’re excited, but you can go tomorrow. Let me use the Range Rover this afternoon. What’s the hurry anyway? You still have to get through all the paperwork before it’s yours.”
“Because this is a big deal to me, and if you want to play the told-you-so game I told you when you bought that huge truck that it wasn’t practical for the age group of most of your clients. Remember?”
“Touché.”
“Besides. I’m already up here.” Not really taking any joy in pointing that out, she didn’t want to argue with him. “I’ve got to go.”
“I’m sorry. Congratulations, Liz. Selfishly I’m not looking forward to you moving away.”
Unfortunately, Dan was always a little selfish, but that was just part of his character. “We’ll be friends no matter where I live.”
“I know, but I don’t have to like it. You are going to let me list your house, aren’t you?”
She’d thought long and hard about this last night. It hadn’t been easy. Her friend Missy was also a Realtor, and though she was closer to Dan, he could be a little spiteful sometimes and there was no sense giving him a chance to sabotage the sale. He was sometimes weird like that, and probably why he didn’t have a ton of friends. Exactly the reason they were nothing more than friends.
“I’m going to let Missy list it,” she said.
“I thought you might.” He sounded disappointed.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t be the one to sell it, though.” The truth was he usually sold houses way more expensive than hers.
“Yeah. True. All right. I’ll see you.”
The line disconnected. No “best wishes.” No “good luck.” Not even a less than enthusiastic “I’m happy for you.”
She’d better let Missy know she needed her to list the house before she found out from someone else. She leaned against the porch rail and dialed her. She answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Missy. It’s Liz. I need to put my house on the market.”
“No problem. I’m happy to do it, but what’s going on? This seems kind of out of the blue. Are you relocating for work?”
“Something like that. I’ll fill you in when we get together.”
“Whatever the reason this is great news for me. Finding one-story ramblers with over five thousand square feet is hard these days. I have several older couples looking for places just like yours. This will be an easy sale. Think about what you want for it, and I’ll pull the comps. When can you meet?”
“I’m up in the mountains. How about the Monday after Thanksgiving?”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“You can.” Her dream was now a work-in-progress. Filled with starry-eyed hopes for a future just like her grandparents’, she thought this Christmas would be the best Christmas since the last one she’d spent here.
She belted out a fa-la-la-la-la with joy in her heart, then closed her eyes. It was so quiet she could hear herself breathe. A bird called in the distance, probably warning his friends that someone had arrived. She wondered just how long the house had been empty. She had a million questions.
Pine filled the air the way it did right after a big rain.
A twig snapped in the distance. She double-stepped to the door, looking over her shoulder. Probably deer or a rabbit scampering around. Hopefully not a bear, because there were plenty of them too. A thin branch from a holly bush swung back and scraped her cheek. Served her right for not watching where she was going.
Her cheek stung. She patted it, feeling the stickiness that indicated the spiny leaves had won that round.
Off to the side of the door there was a large rectangle where a sign must have once hung. The screw holes were still there, but the sun had bleached the wooden timbers around it, leaving a large dark spot.
She pulled open the screen door and stepped between it and the front door.
The whole house could use a new coat of stain. She rubbed her finger across the dry wood.
Liz pressed the code into the lockbox and then removed the key and opened the door.
The musty smell was only part of what stopped her in her tracks.
She stood there, frozen for a long moment. She wasn’t prepared for what she’d walked into. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
The entire downstairs had been gutted.
“What happened?” She flipped a light switch out of habit. Of course, the power wasn’t on. It was dim inside with all the windows boarded over. Perhaps that auctioneer had been more clever than she’d given him credit for. If anyone had peeked in the window and seen this … she’d lay bets that there’d have been markedly fewer bidders on auction day.
She swallowed back a wave of emotion. A lump grew in the back of her throat.
This place—once beautiful—had been torn apart without a care for its former grandeur. Had it been intentional? Or vandals?
Strange faux walls were oddly placed, throughout the gutted downstairs. Apparently to display the art. Others weren’t walls at all, but more like cubicle panels. She walked over to where the fireplace had been. A huge panel hung from the vaulted ceiling on chains. She pushed her weight against it and it swung out enough for her to see that thankfully the beautiful stonework appeared to be in decent shape behind it.
“What were they thinking covering this up?” She supposed she should be grateful they hadn’t ripped the whole fireplace out.
She turned on her phone flashlight to get a better look at the fireplace. Something reflected in the light. She used her knee to hold the hanging panel away from the wall and reached for it. As soon as her hand grazed it, she knew what it was. She tugged it from the wall and held it close.
How did this fragile angel make it through what must have been one crazy demolition?
A night-light. One of many that used to be here. Each handmade. The clear stained-glass angel held a horn, her dress flowing behind her.
“Oh, Gram. I’m glad you’re not here to see this place.” Her heart hung heavy in her chest. She’d prepared herself for repairs—even a lot of them—but this was as if someone had come in and just slashed the life and memories from the place.
She glanced at the glass angel in her hand.
I guess angels can survive anything. She hoped she could survive this too. Someone here in town had made these for Gram. She’d always treasured them.
She knew what every inch of this house should look like. Aside from this little angel next to the fireplace hidden by the tacky hanging panel, she didn’t recognize any of it.
Devastating regret assailed her.
She allowed herself to give in to the despair. She wasn’t sure how long she cried. But rather than flee, and leave this mistake in her rearview mirror, she gathered her composure and sat there letting her tears dry against her skin until she thought of a bright side.
“It’s a clean slate.” Another tear slipped down her cheek. She swept it away and concentrated on her last time here.
Where she stood now was the great room. Lodge plaids and jewel tones that celebrated nature had once accented gleaming hardwood floors. Practically every piece of furniture had had a story. Local artwork had graced the walls, along with a few of Pop’s prized catches—fish and deer. Also on this level had been the kitchen, dining hall, master suite with an en suite bath, and laundry room.
Disappointment weighed on her. At least the walls looked to be in good shape, although there were tons of wires hanging from them. She’d heard of people stripping a house before it went to auction, but would it really be worth the effort to make a few bucks on a used fixture?
She put one foot on the staircase, but two treads up it was clear that it was in dangerous disrepair—broken balusters and some treads completely missing. Looking up, she saw water damage, probably the culprit of the demise of the once beautiful staircase.
The new roof had given her a false sense of security. On the bright side—she had to think of a bright side or else she’d break down and cry again right here—the roof was one less thing she’d have to fix.
She wanted to see the upstairs, hoping that by some miracle it was in good shape, but one more attempt to step on the stairs was all the warning she needed. She did not want to be stuck here hurt by herself overnight, and her phone was showing only one bar right now.
She walked back into the middle of the room and sat on the floor. She could hear Dan’s told-you-so as loud as if he’d followed her up here and shouted it into her ear.
She’d let nostalgia cloud her good judgment.
This place would never be like it was when she was kid.
It was going to be a big enough challenge to get Angel’s Rest going again, furnishing the whole place and fixing those things that years of neglect required, but now she’d have to renovate before she could even get to that stage.
Her dreams of reopening the inn seemed to be slipping right out of her hands as quickly as she’d held them there.