After carefully folding the note and property paper, Zubera put them in her grandmother's diary and went upstairs to her grandmother's room. She placed the diary on the side table next to her bed to keep it close while she slept. She had many questions running wild in her mind but was too drained to think about them. Ebba slept on the sofa on the lower floor of the house by the fireplace.
The room was filled with warmth from the early morning sunlight that could be seen peeking through the dirty window glass. Zubera stretched her arms and gazed at the diary before reading a few pages written by her grandma in which she journaled about her day-to-day life. She clutched the diary in her hands as she did so. Her attention was drawn to the missing property documents. She threw the blanket to the floor and then crouched down to search for it under the bed. She frantically searched for it in every conceivable place, and it caused her uneasiness. She ran downstairs and yanked the cover off of Ebba's, who had been sleeping soundly as if she were getting the most wonderful sleep of her life. She walked over to Ebba and yelled her name to rouse her awake. Ebba slowly blinked and opened both of her eyes as she readjusted her vision to the bright light of the morning. She massaged her eyes and stared at Zubera with an inquisitive expression on her face. She asked what had happened.
'You little scamp, where are the property papers?' Angry, Zubera demanded while throwing the diary onto the coffee table. Ebba was unsure about what to do. She curled up on one end of the sofa and questioned, 'What papers?'. Zubera's voice became increasingly heated as she continued to speak. "The papers I showed you last night,' she said. Ebba sent forth a piercing cry in her defense. Both stopped and turned their heads to look toward the kitchen when a dirty white Persian cat on the kitchen counter started meowing directly across from them. She was licking her paws absently, utterly oblivious to the ruckus that was occurring in the living area. Zubera sneezed; she had a cat allergy.
'You stayed in my house, and you even let in a filthy stray cat in my house? Aren't you starting to feel a little too at ease?' Zubera glared at Ebba.
Zubera continued to sneeze and yelled, 'Get the cat out of my house.'
Ebba leaped to her feet and ran in the direction of the cat, who didn't seem to mind her approach. She held the cat carefully in her arms and stroked it in a soothing way. She looked at the papers that were lying underneath where the cat had been sitting.
'Are these the papers you were looking for?' Ebba said glancing at Zubera. Zubera made her way towards Ebba and examined the papers as she got closer. It was the property papers.
The response was, 'Yeah, but how did it get here?' It came as a shock to Zubera.
'I didn't get it here,' Ebba spoke up immediately in her defence.
'Do you mean to say the cat stole it?' Zubera said in a mocking manner.
As Zubera lifted the papers off the counter, a small note dropped to the floor. Ebba grabbed it and observed, 'That's another message from grandma,' before reading it aloud. 'It says, "Don't even think of selling the house; go and make the shop ready. You will have visitors coming soon from afar," look at the handwriting,' Ebba continued. Ebba passed the note to Zubera, and they both looked at the handwriting. Zubera said nothing and walked upstairs; she soon returned and said to Ebba, 'Get ready; we're going to the real estate agent's office right now.'
'But what about the note?' Ebba commented while continuing to pet the cat that was sitting on her lap. 'That dirty cat is going to the local shelter,' Zubera muttered as she exited the front door.
Ebba, along with the cat, hopped in the car, and they drove to the real estate agent's office. They came to a halt in front of the newly painted office, which from the outside appeared promising by town standards. Zubera entered the office, all regal bearings, and Ebba followed close behind.
A well-dressed man in his mid-forties welcomed them both and led them to his office, pulling a chair for Zubera. He'd never seen Zubera in town before. Her beauty and feminine, softer, and rounder body contours quickly won him over. He tried to impress her by telling her about all the years he had been the top real estate agent in town and how many awards he had won at the annual fair. He boasted endlessly about his business dealings and real estate holdings. Zubera sat for a while, watching his self-absorbed self-promotion. She paused for a moment, flashed him a smile, and then laid the papers out on the table.
'I'd like to sell my house,' Zubera said with her fake smile intact.
'Gladly, I'm here to help,' he said flirtatiously.
He slid the papers towards him, confidently looking at the address on the paper. The 'Crimson Cottage,' He became nervous, loosened his tie, and looked at Zubera from the corner of his eyes. He was becoming increasingly worried. Once a confident man, he was now trembling to blurt out words to form a coherent sentence.
'Are you Zubera Delvaux? 'Granddaughter of Nafre Delvaux?' he inquired, his voice trembling.
'Yes, that's me; when can you come to look at the property?' Zubera asked, her eyes widening in preparation for his response.
'Can you return to the office after lunch? 'I have somewhere to go,' he said.
'Oh, no problem, I'll come by later,' Zubera said before leaving.
He became as pale as if all his blood had suddenly left his body and been sucked away by the air in the room. Town people have always avoided the Crimson Cottage due to its dark and sinister past. The mere fact of being in the shadowy cast of the house was thought to be enough to bring bad luck to its unfortunate recipient.