The idea of being left a house, a whole entire house, in someone's will was staggering to me as a millennial that worked at Target for $15/hr. But my grandmother had been fond of me the most, it seemed. So, there I was, in her small but well cared for home, faintly smelling her perfume and the rosemary she was so fond of cooking with. Not to mention the incense she worked with in her business as a psychic, but I knew little of that work, since I wasn't a parasapien nor was I gifted with the slightest bit of psychic abilities.
Before moving in, first few weeks were spent cleaning the place up, since she'd been in hospice for a month or so before she passed, and then donating or selling anything I didn't want to keep. But she'd had lovely taste, my grandmother, and the solid wood furniture, while not something I would buy on my own, fit perfectly in her home. Probably because I'd always seen it all in the same place for so many years and changing anything too drastically would've felt unnecessary and awkward.
Once I was fully moved in, I started in on the attic, leaving it for last since everything up there was out of the way. A flag caught my eye early, in a box all on its own, carefully folded and wrapped in tissue paper. The way it had been stored with such care struck me as I unfolded it, revealing a beautiful pattern that must have been hand-sewn, an astounding project considering the size and detail. I brought it downstairs, hand washed it in the sink, ironed it out, and hung it out on the flagpole. The flag there at the moment was wintery anyway, and spring was well on its way in.
That next morning gave me quite a fright.
Blearily wandering down the stairs, usually half-awake until I got my cup of coffee, I was jolted into full consciousness when I saw two goblins on my kitchen table. They were sat beside each other, casually nibbling on cookies from the jar on my counter. "What…" My voice trailed off, unable to find the words to continue.
They looked up to me cheerfully, or as cheerfully as their little wrinkled faces could appear. "We are grateful for the hospitality you provided us. Our work has been scarce recently, and these cookies are delicious."
"Uh…thanks," I said, my hand going to my forehead but my manners still kicking in. "How did you…get in?"
They blinked at me. "Through the front door?"
"It was…locked."
"Not for us."
Just then I heard the telltale creak of footsteps coming down the hall and my eyes shot to my left, taking in the small child that couldn't possibly be mistaken for human. Her pale green skin and piercing purple eyes were one thing, but the wings were something completely other. She wore a pale blue dress, sparkly and comfortable, and strolled into the kitchen with a smile on her face. "Hello. Do you live here now?"
"I feel like I'm missing something," I said, my voice monotone. "Who are you?"
The girl looked at me oddly. "Do you…ask for my Name?"
"No!" I exclaimed, knowing better than that. "But, I mean, you can…call me Dorothy," I said slowly. "What can I call you?"
"Amber," she replied. "Where is Evelyn? She's been gone quite a while. The brownies have been lacking in work."
My face fell at that. "She, um…she died."
All three of the others in the room stilled and the goblins lowered their heads in mourning. "My condolences," Amber whispered. "I often forget how fleeting human lives are. I hadn't seen her in several decades. I only returned when I saw the invitation."
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," I said, clasping my hands in front of me. "Invitation. What invitation?"
"The flag," she answered, as if the answer was obvious. "Evelyn used it rarely, usually when she desired company or if she wished to assist in providing neutral ground during disputes that could grow violent. Did you…did you just hang it up because you thought it pretty?" Amber asked, a smile growing wider across her face in amusement.
"Yeah," I admitted. "I knew a little bit of her work, but not much of it. I've been busy with my own life for years and barely managed to keep in touch every couple weeks. But when I was younger, she sometimes told me stories…" My mind drifted for a few moments before looking back to Amber. "Is this all of you?" I asked, motioning to her and the goblins.
"Oh, Kieran is in the backyard," Amber replied, gesturing.
"Kieran is…"
"A centaur," she replied matter-of-factly.
I nodded once slowly. "Of course he is." I paused a moment to absorb everything and then decided that if I were to continue a conversation with a fae, of all creatures, I needed caffeine in me pronto. "All right. Um…I need to have breakfast, get dressed…then I suppose I should learn a bit more about my grandmother's…activities before she passed."
Amber pursed her lips in a smile. "If you know little, it may surprise you, the kind of trouble she found now and again."
That did surprise me, clashing with the subdued, grandmotherly figure I recalled fondly. "I think it will surprise me," I said. "But I do very much look forward to this particular surprise."