Chapter 5: The Old Man

She had deposited the check the night before, and it cleared at noon.

Willa stood in the bank lobby with her phone in her hand and watched the wire go through to the lawyer in Prarc Town.

Five hundred thousand dollars left her account and was gone.

The lawyer's email arrived a minute later. The cottage was hers, signed and recorded.

She read it standing at the counter, and her legs went weak with relief.

Then she remembered how she had paid for it, and the relief soured.

She told herself she had done a necessary thing. She told herself twice.

At four o'clock she took a taxi to Tarleton Hall.

The manor had stood on its hill for a hundred years. It was built of gray stone, with ivy up the walls and a fountain on the lawn.

She had slept in it from thirteen to twenty-two, and she had never once felt it was hers.

Her mother met her on the front steps.

"Willa." Her mother held her face in both hands. "You're so thin. Oh, my girl."

Her mother's eyes filled and she did not try to hide it.

Willa let herself be held.

"I'm all right, Mom."

"You are not. Come in, come in."

Her father stood in the front hall with his hands in his pockets.

He gave her a short nod.

"Dad," she said.

"You're home," he said.

It was as much as he had ever managed, and she took it.

The living room was warm and dark. Her grandfather sat in the big armchair by the fireplace.

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