Anita found herself once again in the dimly lit room within Harrow Hall. She could feel her heart racing as she took in the scene before her.
At the center of the room stood the same circular table made of dark mahogany, its surface adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and arcane symbols. The table seemed almost alive, the carvings shifting and changing in the flickering candlelight. Around the table sat multiple members of the Harrow family, dressed in expensive 19th-century clothing and draped in jewels. Their faces were masks of concentration and fear as they engaged in a sinister ritual.
Anita’s gaze swept over the table, noting the four eerie dolls seated again at the north, south, east, and west positions. The dolls’ delicate porcelain faces and finely detailed clothing gave them an unsettling realism. Their glassy eyes seemed to follow her every move, and she felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at them.
This time, instead of the pregnant maid tied to the chair, there were two children in grubby clothing, blindfolded and sitting together in the intricately carved highbacked chair. The children’s shoulders shook with silent sobs, their bodies trembling with fear as they sat helplessly in the chair.
Anita’s attention was drawn to a middle-aged man who suddenly stood from his seat at the table, his face etched with a look of terror. She recognized him as Aldous Harrow from one of the portraits along the grand staircase. He picked up two bone dice from the table, his hands shaking as he prepared to roll them. The tension in the room was palpable, and Anita could feel the fear and desperation emanating from Aldous.
Seated at the table was Aldous’s mother, Victoria Harrow, her expression cool and composed. Next to her sat her teenage granddaughter, Emmiline, who watched the proceedings with a mix of curiosity and dread. Aldous’s hands trembled as he rolled the dice, and the room fell silent as they clattered across the table’s surface. They came to a stop, revealing two opposing symbols.
A collective gasp went through the room, and the oldest doll at the table spoke in a voice that sent chills down Anita’s spine. “Shadows meet light, and the stakes have now doubled.”
Aldous ran his hands through his hair, thoroughly terrified and glancing repeatedly at the crying children in the chair. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable, and it was clear that he did not want to continue.
Victoria, however, remained calm and authoritative. “Roll again,” she commanded, her voice cold and unyielding.
Aldous hesitated, his reluctance evident, but he eventually complied. With trembling hands, he picked up the dice and rolled them once more. The room held its breath as the dice came to a stop, revealing two identical symbols.
A collective sigh went through the dolls, and the oldest doll spoke again. “Shadow meets shadow. Emmiline Marguerite, you will be the recipient of the years when it is your time.”
“Emmiline?” Victoria’s voice was sharp with surprise and anger.
One of the younger dolls turned its porcelain head toward her. “The Harrow has chosen,” it said, its voice mechanical and emotionless.
The dolls began chanting, their voices rising in a haunting melody. A smoky blue light began to run through the carvings on the table, illuminating the intricate designs. The light pulsed and shifted, casting an eerie glow over the room. The dolls all turned their focus to Victoria, and she began chanting as well. The other Harrow family members followed suit, their voices blending with those of the dolls in a chilling harmony.
The smoky blue light crept across the table, snaking its way toward the children. The light wrapped around them, and they breathed it in through their sobs. Their cries grew louder and more desperate as the light enveloped them, their bodies trembling with fear and pain.
Anita watched in horror, unable to move or speak. The chanting grew louder and more intense, the air thick with a malevolent energy. The children’s cries were drowned out by the chanting, their bodies writhing in agony as the ritual continued. The light pulsed and throbbed, its eerie glow filling the room.
***
**Vanessa**
Is she going back to LA?
**Doreen**
She said she needs some time to figure things out. But it doesn’t sound like she will soon.
**Vanessa**
Have you *blown* thru all the $ I gave you?
**Doreen**
No.
**Vanessa**
Good. Use some of it to get a flight out here. ASAP
**Doreen**
Why?
**Vanessa**
You find out when you get here.
**Vanessa**
Book it tonight. Tell her you’re coming.
**Doreen**
I have to put in for the time off work. I’m already on thin ice as it is.
**Vanessa**
A coke problem will do that to a person.
**Doreen**
I don’t want to do this anymore.
**Vanessa**
You should have thought of that before you stole the drugs to inject Vic. You should be smart enough to know that was the point of no return.
**Doreen**
Fine.
**Vanessa**
In my pocket or behind bars. Your choice.
***
Anita woke before dawn, the remnants of her nightmare still clinging to her consciousness like a dense fog. It was the same as the previous night—the mahogany table, the dolls, Victoria and others chanting, and this time, two poor children in such desperation. Anita sat up in bed, her heart pounding in the pre-dawn silence of the Hall. Sleep was out of the question now, so she decided to get up and make herself useful.
She slipped into a pair of old jeans, a sweatshirt, and her clogs, the creaky wooden floors sending shivers up her spine as she made her way to the kitchen. The Hall, vast and grand, seemed to breathe with its own life, every squeak and groan a testament to its age. The kitchen was her target for the morning. Anita knew that if she were to make a go of living here, she'd need to understand just how much work it would take to get the rooms to livable and clean states.
The first light of dawn filtered through the tall, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the room. Anita took a deep breath and set to work. She began by clearing away the dust and grime that had accumulated over the years. The task was monumental, but she found a rhythm in the repetitive motions. She scrubbed the counters, swept the floors, and polished the old, tarnished fixtures until they gleamed. The physical exertion was cathartic, a way to channel her restless energy.
By the time she finished, the kitchen looked almost new. Anita stepped back to admire her work, wiping sweat from her forehead. The room had transformed from a dusty relic to a warm, inviting space. A sense of accomplishment filled her as she imagined the possibilities this kitchen held. She could almost hear the clatter of pots and pans, smell the rich aromas of homemade meals.
Feeling a spark of excitement, Anita decided she wanted to experience cooking in such a place. But first, she needed ingredients. Logan's pickup was parked in its usual spot outside, indicating he had already arrived for work. She didn’t see him as she made her way to her car, but after experiencing the vastness of the grounds yesterday, she figured he might not even be within sight of the Hall.
The drive into town was a peaceful one, a morning sun casting a clean, warm light over the landscape. The map app showed a single grocery store that served the entire community. As she parked her car and walked inside, the familiar scent of fresh produce and baked goods greeted her.
Anita moved through the aisles, filling her cart with essentials. She was determined to make a gourmet lunch to christen her newly cleaned kitchen. Maybe, she thought optimistically, Logan would be around at just the right time, and she’d ask him to join her. If not, she tried to convince herself, she’d enjoy it just as much alone. Butter, meat, asparagus, parmesan, salt and pepper, lettuce—she ticked off the items on her mental checklist.
The butcher, a burly man with a grizzled beard, was behind his counter, busily chopping meat.
"Morning," she said, trying to sound cheerful.
He looked up, his eyes narrowing. "What can I get you?" he asked gruffly.
"I’d like two filet mignon and half a pound of bacon," Anita replied.
"You’re one of them Harrows, aren't you?" he said, his voice laced with disdain.
She felt a flush creep up her neck. "My husband was." she said quietly.
The butcher snorted. "That’s what I thought. Stick out like a sore thumb.”
Anita shifted uncomfortably and shoved a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Harrows look out for no one but themselves. You think they’re doing some good, but in the end, it only benefits the precious estate. And you ain’t no different."
Her stomach tightened. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice shaking slightly.
The butcher slammed a cleaver into the cutting board, making her jump. "I’ve seen it time and again,” he growled. “You Harrows are all the same. High and mighty. Anything you choose to do hurts the people of this town. Always has. You ought just go back where you come from and let that damned place rot."
Feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment, she watched as the butcher wrapped her order and shoved it across the counter. She took the packages and turned to leave, but then thought better of it. “You know,” she said, more grit in her voice than she felt, drawing on the well of knowledge Logan had instilled in her yesterday, “It seems like most of the cropland around here belongs to the Harrow estate and is on lease to local farmers. The opportunity for planting, raising, and harvesting gives a lot of families a good income and a good life. And the grants Hyacinth created the last 30 years made a difference for locals to open a new variety of business here.”
“Just collecting people to put in your pocket is all you Harrows are doing.” The butcher raised his voice. “That’s all you ever want—control over us! You can package it nice and call it whatever you want, but in the end, all you want is us to be indebted to you. You start poking around in that Hall and before you know it, people will start disappearing again. And won’t nothing touch you. Just like before!”
Anita turned on her heel and strode away. She could feel the eyes of the other shoppers on her, all aware of the butcher’s accusations which had been voiced at full volume. In the produce section, two old women whispered to each other, their gazes fixed on her. A mother with two kids in the cereal aisle gave her a cold look, pulling her children closer as if to shield them. The old man in the checkout line behind her mumbled something about "a Harrow having nothing better to do with the day" when she offered to let him go ahead of her.
Anita kept her head down, paid for her groceries, and rushed out of the store. Her eyes stung with tears, and her cheeks burned with shame for things she didn’t even understand. The drive back to the Hall was a somber one. The sun was high in the sky now, casting a bright light on the picturesque countryside and even some decent warmth, but Anita couldn’t enjoy either. Her thoughts were clouded with doubt and unease. Would she be making a mistake by staying in Harrowsburg? It seemed like the town itself was against her.
How many others shared the butcher’s opinion? Was it just the have and have-not attitude? What about the disappearances he spoke of? That sounded important. Logan would know. As she bumped along the two-track, she hoped he’d be nearby so that she could ask him about it. She felt very alone after the experience in the grocery store.
***
**Doreen**
Guess who’s coming to Connecticut?
**Anita**
No way!
**Doreen**
I’m going to make it work sometime in the next couple weeks. If you decide to step away from the craziness there, we can drive home together.
**Anita**
OMG, Doreen, that's amazing! I can't wait! I just had the worst experience in town. This just made my day!
**Doreen**
Glad to hear that! It's going to be so good to see you. I’ll send you the flight number so you can pick me up.
**Anita**
Perfect! I feel so much better knowing you'll be here.
**Doreen**
Of course! We’re going to have a great time. And don’t worry, we’ll figure this out together.
**Anita**
Can’t wait to see you, Doreen!
**Doreen**
I’ll keep you posted if anything changes.
***
Anita parked her car on the Hall’s graveled drive and took a deep breath. As she stepped out, she saw Logan approaching from the side of the house. His presence was a welcome sight, grounding her in the reality of the Hall and the work ahead.
"Hey there," Logan greeted her. "Need a hand with those?"
"Sure, thanks," Anita replied, smiling despite the fatigue she felt creeping in. She handed him a few bags and together they made their way to the kitchen. “Guess what? My best friend, Doreen, is flying in some time in the next couple weeks.”
“That’s great. Can’t wait to meet her.”
“We’ve been friends since nursing school.” Anita felt a sudden wet blanket douse her excitement. She hoped Doreen’s plans didn’t mean something had gone wrong for her in LA. She knew the staffing coordinator was not a fan of Doreen. He and HR both had multiple strikes against her.
“Are you sure Harrowsburg can handle two California girls at once?”
Anita laughed.
As they entered the kitchen, Logan’s eyes widened in surprise. "Wow, you’ve been busy. What a transformation. It looks amazing!"
Anita beamed with pride. "Thanks. I spent the morning cleaning it up. I wanted to see what it would be like to cook in here, and it looks like it's going to be pretty great."
They set the groceries on the counter, and Anita began unpacking. "I was thinking we could have lunch together. How does bacon-wrapped filet mignon, a side salad, and parmesan roasted asparagus sound?"
Logan’s eyebrows shot up. "That sounds fantastic. I didn’t realize you were such a chef."
Anita laughed softly. "I like to cook when I have the time. It’s relaxing, and it helps me clear my head."
She unpacked the bags and asked, “Could you go trim me some rosemary, basil, and thyme from the garden? And a bulb of garlic if there is one?”
“Yes ma’am,” Logan grinned at her. She smiled back and handed him a bowl and some kitchen shears. She watched him through the tall paned windows and wondered if there was anything that man didn’t look comfortable doing. He was always so at ease. As he headed back into the house, she tried to busy herself, pretending she hadn’t just been ogling him.
“Here you go.”
She took the bowl and the shears from him. “Perfect. Thank you.”
Anita tried to push the butcher’s words from her mind. She didn’t want to dwell on it, but she felt she needed to share it with Logan. "I had an interesting encounter at the grocery store," she began, keeping her tone light. "The butcher wasn’t exactly welcoming."
Logan’s expression darkened slightly. "Dexter can be a real piece of work. What happened?"
Anita shrugged, trimming the asparagus with practiced ease. "He wasn’t happy about there being a potential new owner of the Hall. Told me some people in town aren’t too thrilled about it."
Logan sighed, leaning against the counter. "I’m not surprised. Not everyone in Harrowsburg feels that way, but there are some who do. It’s an old town with a long memory. When one group has money and the other doesn't, there isn’t much the first can do without upsetting the second."
Anita nodded, focusing on wrapping the filets in bacon. "He mentioned something about disappearances and blamed the Harrows. What’s that about?"
Logan hesitated, then began to explain. "It happened years and years back, when Hyacinth was just a child. There were a few disappearances, and people started pointing fingers. There wasn’t much of an investigation because there weren’t many clues, as far as I know. But the townspeople blamed the Harrows, thinking they should have done more. It created gossip and bad rumors that have persisted for decades. Some still bring it up, but there’s little basis to it."
Anita absorbed his words as she seasoned the filets and prepared the asparagus for roasting. The kitchen filled with the mouthwatering aroma of cooking meat and fresh herbs. "That explains a lot," she said quietly. "It’s hard enough moving to a new place without feeling like you’re not wanted."
Logan reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. "Don’t let it get to you. There are plenty of people here who will welcome you once they get to know you.”
They continued chatting as she cooked, the conversation flowing easily. Logan helped by setting the table, and soon they were sitting down to a beautifully prepared meal. The bacon-wrapped fillets were perfectly cooked, the asparagus tender and flavorful with a crisp center, and the salad a refreshing complement.
"This is incredible," Logan said after taking a bite. "You’ve outdone yourself."
Anita laughed softly. "Thanks. I’m glad you’re enjoying it."
As they ate, Anita felt a sense of normalcy budding. The kitchen was warm and inviting, filled with the sounds of clinking cutlery and light conversation. For a moment, the worries about the townspeople and the Hall’s history faded into the background.
She noticed Logan studying her face with a look of concern. "You look exhausted," he said gently. "Did you have another nightmare last night?"
Anita sighed, setting down her fork. "Yes. I woke up before dawn and couldn’t get back to sleep. It’s starting to take a toll."
Logan nodded thoughtfully. “Are you still planning on making a decision about the estate tomorrow? Or will you wait for Doreen to get here?”
“I want to make the decision tomorrow. If I decide not to stay on, she and I will drive home together.”
"Maybe you should try getting away from the Hall for the afternoon. Go somewhere relaxing, get some rest. It might help clear your head."
Anita considered his suggestion. She was hesitant to leave the Hall, but the idea of a change of scenery was appealing. "You might be right," she admitted. "I could use a break."
Logan smiled. "I know just the spot.” He reached down to his belt and unhook a set of keys. “It’s quiet, and the scenery is almost as good as here. You can make yourself at home and sleep anywhere. There’s also a hammock outside in the backyard under a couple giant oaks if you feel like it."
“Your place?” Anita asked surprised.
“Yep. It’s a few miles down the road from here, a little out of the way, but the map app will take you right to it. You can spend as much time as you’d like. No one will bother you. I’ll be here until early evening, and hopefully, you’ll escape the nightmares.”
Anita’s need for a good nap matched the wave of gratitude she felt for Logan’s thoughtfulness. "That sounds perfect."
They finished their meal, lingering at the table as they talked about lighter topics. Logan shared stories about the town and its quirks, making Anita laugh with his dry wit and keen observations. The tension she had felt earlier began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and connection. After lunch, Logan insisted on helping with the dishes, and they worked side by side, cleaning up the kitchen.
The sun was high in the sky by the time they finished, casting a warm glow through the windows.
“Get some rest!” he called as they parted ways in the yard. Anita checked the address he had put into the map app and sure enough it was just a few miles away. She’d just have to go back to the main road on the two-track and then turn away from town. It looked like the property set off the road a bit. There would be no nosy neighbors checking on who Logan had at his house.
Feeling a mix of gratitude and hesitation, she drove away from the Hall. She knew she needed the break and the rest if she truly was going to make her decision the next day. The drive to his house was peaceful, the mid-afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the rolling hills and quaint, rustic rural homes around Harrowsburg.
When she arrived, she found Logan’s house nestled among a grove of tall pines, its pastoral charm immediately apparent. The house was small and utilitarian, but it had a warmth and character that spoke volumes about its owner. She parked her car off to the side of the large driveway and approached the front door. She unlocked it with the key Logan had given her.
Inside, the house was immaculately kept. The wooden floors gleamed, and the simple furniture was arranged with a sense of purpose. The living room had a comfortable couch, a sturdy coffee table, and a well-worn armchair. Shelves lined one wall, filled with books and knick-knacks that told the story of a life well-lived. Anita was immediately at ease.
As she explored further, she noticed family pictures on the walls and tables. There were photos of Logan with his parents, and others with a group of friends, laughing and smiling in various settings. More photos with the four siblings Mary and George had mentioned at the coffee shop. She was relieved to see that Vanessa was in none of the frames. It seemed Logan had a close-knit group of people he cared about, and that made her feel even more at ease.
The kitchen was just as pristine as the rest of the house, with clean countertops and neatly organized cabinets. Anita couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Logan’s meticulousness. It was clear that he took pride in his home, just as he did with his work at the manor. She also wondered if he might be a little OCD.
Eventually, Anita made her way to the bedrooms. She found Logan’s room and peeked inside. It was simple and utilitarian, much like the rest of the house. The bed was neatly made, and the room was free of clutter. On the bedside table was a worn Bible with a number of placemarkers and notes sticking out at wayward angles. She felt a pang of guilt at the thought of sleeping in his bed, as if she were intruding on his personal space.
Instead, she chose the guest room across the hall. It was cozy, with a soft mattress, a small dresser, and a nightstand with a lamp. A window overlooked the back garden, where afternoon light created a serene view. She spotted the oversize hammock between the oaks that he had mentioned and could imagine him using it, though he worked so hard, she wondered when he found the time.
Anita set her purse down and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the fatigue of the past few days catch up with her. She lay down and was asleep within minutes, drifting off into a deep, dreamless slumber.
***
When she awoke, it was almost 8:30 pm. The room was dimly lit by the glow of the moon outside, and she could hear the faint sounds of someone moving about the house. The smell of savory food cooking wafted through the air, making her stomach growl.
Anita stretched and got out of bed, surprisingly refreshed. She tousled her hair and straightened her clothing, hoping she didn’t look too unkempt. Following the delicious aroma to the kitchen, she found Logan at the stove, stirring something in a pot. He looked up and smiled when he saw her.
"Hey, you’re awake. How was your nap?" he asked, his tone warm and welcoming.
"You mean all six and a half hours of it? It was perfect," Anita purred, her voice still a bit groggy from sleep. "I didn’t realize how much I needed it. Thank you for letting me rest here." She yawned and stretched her arms above her head.
Logan waved off her thanks. "No problem at all. I’m glad you could get some sleep. I figured you’d be hungry, so I started making dinner."
Anita’s mouth watered as she looked at the food he was preparing. "It smells amazing. What are we having?"
"Just a simple stew," Logan said, “and you’re just in time.” He ladled some into a bowl and handed it to her. "It’s one of my go-to recipes."
Anita took the bowl and moved to sit at the small table, inhaling the savory aroma. “Not so fast,” he said, stepping over to the sliding door with his own bowl of stew. He opened it with his free hand and motioned with his head. “Let’s sit out here.”
She followed him outside to a gorgeous patio space, a tranquil haven of warmth and light, a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern comfort. Nestled at the back of his quaint home, the patio was an inviting retreat where Anita imagined evenings could be transformed into magical experiences. The structure itself was a testament to craftsmanship, with its sturdy wooden beams supporting a beautifully designed roof that provided both shelter and a sense of openness. Twinkling string lights crisscrossed above, casting a soft, enchanting glow that created a cozy ambiance reminiscent of starry nights.
“Did you build all this?” She trailed her fingers over the rough brickwork of a grill area.
“Just a little side project.”
At the center of this outdoor sanctuary was a meticulously crafted stone fire pit, its flames dancing with a life of their own. Surrounded by comfortable Adirondack chairs adorned with colorful, plush pillows and one large chaise, it was a place that invited relaxation and deep conversation. The warmth from the fire was not just physical but also emotional, fostering a sense of intimacy. It was easy to imagine Logan and his friends or family gathered around, sharing stories and laughter as the night wore on.
The patio seamlessly extended from the house, with steps leading up to a higher platform that housed a seating area and a table for alfresco dining. The surrounding greenery, well-tended and lush of course, framed the space, adding to the feeling of being in a secluded, personal retreat.
She followed him over to the Adirondak chairs next to the fire pit and moved close to the flames with an audible sigh. “Finally! Heat!”
He laughed at her, as he opened a nearby cabinet and punched a button. Soft music filled the space around them.
She took a bite of the stew before she sat down and closed her eyes in delight. "This is delicious, Logan. You’re a great cook."
He chuckled and took the seat next to her. "I do my best. It’s a family recipe. My mom taught me how to make it when I was a kid."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the stew and the gorgeous space filling Anita with a sense of contentment and peace.
"You’ve got a lovely home," she said, setting her empty bowl on the table. "It’s so cozy and welcoming."
"Thanks," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "I’ve put a lot of work into it over the years. It’s not much, but it’s mine."
She nodded, feeling a deep appreciation for the man sitting next to her. "I can see that. It’s got so much character, just like you."
Logan smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I try."
They chatted for a while longer, sharing stories about their lives and the town of Harrowsburg. Logan opened up about his family, telling her about his parents and the close bond he shared with them despite being adopted.
Anita turned, propping herself on her elbow to look at him, surprised. “You were?"
He nodded and his gaze shifted to the patio lights above. "I don’t remember anything before I was three years old. My parents have always just been my parents, my brother and sisters have always been my siblings."
"Do you ever wonder about your biological family?" Anita asked gently, her curiosity piqued by his acceptance and the serene way he spoke of his past.
Logan paused, considering her question. "Sometimes, I do. But I've had a wonderful life, a really loving family. I guess I’ve always felt that it would be disrespectful to my parents to go digging around for what happened before they came into my life. By the grace of God, they gave me everything that matters, you know?"
Anita nodded, understanding his loyalty and the depth of his gratitude. "That makes sense," she said softly. "Family isn’t always about blood. It’s about who’s there for you."
"Exactly," He replied, his voice firm. "And my family has been there for me through everything. That’s what really matters."
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. She felt a profound respect for Logan, for the way he embraced his life and the people in it with such wholeheartedness.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice reflective. "If they are ever ready to tell me more, they will. Otherwise, I am who I am because of them and the things I’ve done in my life, not because of where I came from."
Anita reached out, taking his hand in hers, feeling the strength of his grip and the truth in his words. Logan’s identity was shaped by the love and life he knew, not by the mysteries of his early years. In him, she saw the power of nurture over nature, a testament to the family that raised him rather than the one that gave him life. She looked over at him, seeing him not in a new light, but an even better defined one.
He squeezed her hand and stood up. The warm glow of the firepit cast flickering shadows across the patio as the stars above shimmered brightly in the clear night sky, a beautiful backdrop to their evening. Anita realized the only way she could describe it was intimate—not in a sexual sense, but in a deeper, more profound way. She also realized just how easily their time together may have turned awkward had he—or had she—pushed to address the attraction between them. She turned her gaze from the stars to him, and he gave her a look heavy with longing. She had never before judged the strength of a man in what he didn’t do.
“I have to head to bed,” his voice tinged with regret. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. Some special-order supplies for the orchard finally arrived in Hartford, and I need to go pick them up.”
She smiled, though she felt a pang of disappointment.
He returned her smile, his eyes soft with affection. “Do you want to stay out here a little bit longer?”
She nodded.
He laid the fire pit poker against his chair. “Just stir the fire well and then douse it with that watering can in the corner when you’re ready to come in. You can stay as late as you want in the morning. Make yourself at home. I’ll be back at the Hall around noon.”
“Thank you.” She laid her head back against her chair and hoped that he could read the layers of sincerity under her words.
“No problem. Good night.”
“Good night.” She watched him as he walked back into the house. There was something about Logan that made her feel safe and cherished. The first, she’d been missing for a long time. The second, she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly felt before. The warmth of his presence lingered even after he had disappeared inside, leaving her alone on the patio with her thoughts.
Anita remained on the chaise lounge, her mind a whirl of emotions and decisions. The attraction she felt for him was undeniable, but so were the complexities of her current situation. The Hall, with its rich history and the extensive work it needed, loomed large in her thoughts. It was a daunting undertaking, but also an opportunity for a fresh start, a chance to build something meaningful.
The soft sounds of the night filled the silence, the gentle chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Anita let herself relax, sinking deeper into the comfort of the chaise. Her thoughts turned to the Hall and the legacy it held. The nightmares she’d been having, the eerie sense of being watched, and the whispered secrets of the past all weighed heavily on her mind.
The realization that Vance had hidden so much from her, that he had led a life she knew nothing about, was a bitter pill to swallow. Yet, despite the turmoil, she felt an inexplicable pull toward the Hall, a sense that it was where she was meant to be.
As the night grew darker and the air cooler, Anita finally decided to head inside. She doused the fire and made her way to the guest room, feeling fatigue settle over her. She slipped into bed, pulling the covers up around her, and closed her eyes, hoping for a peaceful night’s sleep.