Mike stared at the Victorian style home in awe, the sheer scale of it overwhelming him. Tower-like structures gave the blue dwelling a medieval touch, and the house was ringed in simple gardens with waist high shrubs that were in desperate need of a trim. Stone lions guarded the walk to the front door, and a cobblestone path disappeared around the back.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Mike, startled, dropped his sleeping bag. He bent down to pick it up, feeling warmth rise up in his cheeks. "I'm afraid you have quite a task ahead of you, Mr. Radley."
Mike let out a nervous laugh as Beth, his great aunt's estate representative, walked past. The woman was taller than him, very attractive, and all business. Her dark hair wrapped up in a bun, she paused to check something on her clipboard. Mike took the opportunity to admire her backside through the thin layer of her pencil skirt. Very faint panty lines ran around her buttocks, lines that Mike had trouble taking his eyes away from. She turned to face him, and he pretended to struggle with his sleeping bag.
"I doubt you'll need that," she pointed out, lending him a hand. She smelled like peaches and something floral, a scent he couldn't quite place. "The house has plenty of space."
"I've been a boy scout since I was six," he replied. "Be prepared. That's my motto."
"Uh huh." Beth helped him secure the bag under his arm. "Trust me when I say you won't need it." She led him up the stairs, the wooden deck creaking slightly under their weight. Mike stared briefly at the swinging chair on the front porch, moving slightly in the breeze. As Beth produced a key, she looked at Mike. "This must be like a fairy tale to you."
"No such thing as fairy tales. Just a weird coincidence." He said, careful to keep his eyes above the lacy top of her blouse. Women, as a rule, made him nervous. Particularly the pretty ones.
"You hear about these things all the time," she said, sliding the key into the lock. "But you never get to see them play out." The door stuck in the frame, and Beth leaned her shoulder in to give it a shove. A strand of hair came loose from her bun as she pushed her way inside. "A long-lost relative dying and leaving everything to you."
"Yeah. Lucky me." Mike followed her inside. The house was cool, and dark. Beth opened up some of the windows, allowing the light to come in. The furniture in the home was all covered, giving the sitting room the eerie appearance of a haunted house. Beth pulled the cover off of the couch, sending a small layer of dust into the air.
"You don't seem very keen on the idea, Mr. Radley." Beth uncovered the coffee table with one hand, and set her purse and clipboard down. "It is a very nice house."
"It's not the house. And call me Mike." Mike threw his sleeping bag on a clean portion of the floor along with his backpack. Out of habit, he slipped off his shoes at the door.
"Well, Mike, we went through an awful lot of trouble tracking you down." Beth uncovered a nearby love seat. "This home was only weeks away from being liquidated by the firm."
"Which I understand is still an option?" Mike asked, staring at the pale yellow curtains.
"Correct." Beth picked up her clipboard. "Only if you decide not to keep it."
"Right." Mike looked down the long hallway to the kitchen. "I'm not used to having so much space. Gives me the creeps."
"By nature, homes of this style are actually quite cozy." Beth led the way to the kitchen, the heels of her boots clicking on the hardwood floor. "There is quite a bit of space for you to spread out."
"I've never lived in anything with more than two bedrooms." Mike responded, following the woman. Beth checked the appliances to make sure they still worked, and showed Mike where the fuse box was. A brief tour of the kitchen turned up several jars of preserved jellies, an old box of cat biscuits, and an empty tub of ice cream in the freezer.
"So, where is the cat?" Mike asked, shaking the box of biscuits.
"As far as we know, she didn't have one. Your great aunt conscripted our services long before my parents were even out of high school, and rarely contacted the firm. According to our sources, she was largely a shut-in. It's likely those treats are older than you or I."
"As long as she wasn't eating them," Mike muttered, throwing the biscuits back in the cupboard.
"So, you've only lived in apartments?" Beth led Mike to the stairs. As she climbed, Mike paused to look in the living room. Sure enough, a creepy fucking porcelain doll sat right above the fireplace, legs draped over the mantle. He shivered and looked up the stairs. Enough of Beth's legs were showing that he could see the top of her stockings. Jesus. He pulled hard on the railing, eager to catch up.
"Yeah. My mom was always unemployed, so we were always staying with friends." Memories of being crammed away in the back of someone else's home made him shudder. Long nights pressed up against his own mother as they shared a bed, the smell of alcohol oozing from her pores and stinging his eyes. Years of therapy might have helped him over the worst of it, but he still had nights where he woke up panicked, convinced that he was crammed in bed again with his mother.
"Sounds rough." Beth said. She opened up a door, revealing a study. "This is the office. Everything in here was custom built out."
"I don't see a router." Mike walked in, looking around the room. The shelves in the room were packed with poetry books and different inspirational pieces. Fake flowers adorned every free inch of desk space.
"Your great aunt didn't have Internet."
"Well, I will." Mike frowned, looking out the window. He could see how overgrown the back yard had become. A large stone fountain full of muck had been overgrown with weeds. "I build websites for a living. If I decide to keep the place, I will need to get it installed."
Beth was already making notes on her clipboard. "I will see what we can do. Just to remind you, this home is on the list of historical places, so we may experience some delays."
Mike waved a hand dismissively, kneeling beneath the desk. "I have my ways. Just get me some sort of high speed line, I'll do the rest." He stuck his hands behind the desk, feeling for an outlet.
"Let me show you to the guest room," Beth said, reminding him that she was still there. Mike smacked his head on the desk as he stood. He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the top of his head as he followed her back into the hall. Beth opened up another door, showing him a plain twin sized bed with a large pink comforter. Daisies were embroidered across the top.
"I have no words." Mike said, staring at the guest bed.
"I don't blame you." Beth opened up the closet. "There are some spare linens, but they aren't any better."
"What use does a shut in have for a guest room?" Mike inspected the closet. In the bottom, he saw another porcelain doll.
"My best guess is that it was a room your father stayed in as a child."
"You think?" Mike held up one end of the pink comforter.
Beth laughed. "I never said it was a good idea. Your dad had some cousins, and most were little girls once."
"I'm sure." Mike stared at the bed, his thoughts drifting. Was it actually possible that his own father had slept beneath this roof? The man had died not long after Mike was born, lost to an aggressive form of cancer. It was the same disease that had led his own mother to drink. Thinking of his mother, he looked at the tiny bed and shivered. No fucking way. He needed a larger bed.
"Where did Great Aunt Mabel sleep?" he asked.
"In her room, down the hall." Beth paused. "She died in there."
"In the bed?" Mike was already wondering where he could unroll his sleeping bag.
"No, if that's what you are worried about." Beth took him back into the hall. Mike found himself staring again at her butt. His eyes flicked up to hers as she looked back. "It's this one right here."
Beth opened up the door. The room was large, the ceiling elevated. Mike realized he was in one of the round, tower rooms he had seen from the front. The bed was centered along the back wall, a large four poster with draping curtains all around. His eyes followed the curve of the walls, taking in the intricate molding along the mid wall and ceiling. Two dressers, a standing armoire, and a mirrored nightstand were all uncovered by Beth as she made her rounds. A large opening signaled the entrance to the bathroom. Towards the other side of the room, a large oriental rug covered the floor.
"The rug is in an odd place," Mike said, pointing at it.
"It was some time before we found your aunt," Beth replied. "We're working on finding proper replacement material. It isn't easy to find hundred year old hardwood flooring that matches the surrounding floor."
"Why not replace it all?"
"Historical society, remember?"
"Ah." Mike stared at the bed. It was easily a king size. "Her heart gave out?"
"She was 96. It happens." Beth looked at her clipboard. "I made myself a few notes. I just need a signature to authorize some purchases."
"Of course." Mike ignored Beth for the moment as he walked in the bathroom. "Holy shit, have you seen this thing?"
Beth laughed behind him. "I have. Impressive, isn't it?"
Mike stared at the largest, claw-footed bath tub he had ever seen. Looking at Beth with large eyes, he hopped inside it, laying down along the bottom. Neither his head or feet touched the edges, and he reached his arms out. They were almost fully extended before touching the sides.
"I will admit, your Great Aunt's taste in decor is questionable in areas, but this is probably my favorite piece here." Beth sat along the side of the bath, staring in at Mike. Mike sat up, looking over the side of the tub. The edge was to his chin.
"I feel like I'm sitting in a boat." Mike turned his attention to the spigot. Two separate faucets made of some sort of bronze fed the tub. "Does it still work?"
"I assume so. We had the home inspected in case we were selling it." Beth stroked one of the spigots. "I wish I could try it out."
"Hop in. Plenty of room." The words were out of his mouth before his brain could stop them. He looked away, pretending to fiddle with the faucets.
Beth laughed. "Afraid I'm too busy at the moment." Extending a hand, she helped Mike stand. He had to lift his legs high to step out of the basin. "Maybe I can house sit sometime."
"I'll leave you some bath beads." Mike stepped back to admire the tub. "I've never been a fan of baths, but this may be big enough to change my mind."
Taking a wide berth around the carpet in the bedroom, Mike followed Beth through the remaining rooms of the house. Beth made several notes on her clipboard, noting necessary adjustments. Mike's Great Aunt had left behind a very large sum of money, and her will stipulated that her oldest surviving relative be given full opportunity to make the house livable before selling it. Mike was well aware that one offer to buy was on the table already, a group of women who wanted to turn the place into a local museum. He had never been able to set roots down, rarely living anywhere longer than six months.
Beth stood at the front door, going over her checklist. Mike stared out the front window, watching the swinging chair rock in place. She had said his name twice before he snapped back to reality.
"Sorry, lost in thought," he apologized. "What did you say?"
"I said I can swing by tomorrow to take you shopping. Your Great Aunt had a car, but I wouldn't recommend going anywhere in it. You're going to need to get some essentials if you're going to make this place a home." Beth let the clipboard relax. "Which I hope you do. It was her utmost wish that the home stay in the family. I know you have already voiced some concerns over maintaining the property, but I really think you should give this place a shot."
"Yeah, maybe." Mike gave her a small smile. "This is a unique opportunity after all."
"Good. You have my business card, so don't hesitate to contact me for anything." Beth picked up her purse from the coffee table.
"Actually, there is something." Beth waited patiently as Mike walked over to the fireplace, removing the porcelain doll. "I don't care how, just get rid of it."
Beth stared at the doll and laughed. "I'm on it. Have a good night, Mike." She walked out the door and down the steps. Mike watched her as she went, the clicking of her heels on pavement echoing across the deck. He waved as she got in her car on the street and drove away.
The swinging chair creaked softly. Mike stepped onto the deck, staring at the offending piece of furniture. He unhinged the chains, lowering the seat to the deck. He let the front door shut softly behind him.