Muriel has had her life sculpted and figured out by her well-renowned defense attorney father since she was a child. His Moto: Head down, do your schoolwork, be the best, and always do the right thing.
But what happens when she catches her father wi...
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"Dear hasn't helped me redecorate this room yet, so I apologize for the mess." Carrie-Anne says as her shaky hands fumble through a heavy key ring.
"Ginny and I are very used to mess, aren't we, Love?" Ollie continues to feed this woman's dementia.
I turn to give him a stink eye but he only smiles wider as I glare at him, then he mouths the word Relax.
The jingling of keys and clicking of locks pulls my attention back to the narrow attic door before me, then Carrie-Anne pushes the door open and enters the room. I hold my breath unsure what the heck we might find up here then follow her inside.
To my surprise, the chaotic madness from downstairs doesn't seem it's reached the attic yet. I step inside the quaint room marveling at how precious everything is. The robed woman crosses the small room to a little maple wood table and switches on a small mossy green lamp with a thick shade that casts a warm soft light to the small room. "The bathroom is on the second floor, you'll want to be sure to set your alarms early to beat the other guests before the hot water runs out." She tells us, and both Ollie and I share a look of cracking a hidden smile.
It's clear, we are the only ones here.
"I'll leave you to it, let either Dear or I know if you need anything, extra blankets are in the wardrobe just there."
"Thank you, Mrs. Leonard," Ollie says politely and my eyes take in the rest of the room as the woman shuffles by and closes the door behind us.
The ceilings are low caped inwards to allow for the roof but the walls are covered in wallpaper full of multicolored wildflowers. The trim matches the grass stems in the wallpaper as well as the doors and small pieces of the furniture and is handpainted in the mossy green color. Beside the green wardrobe is a four-post double bed with a white floral quilt and a mossy green bed skirt. Old rugs of faded multicolors cover the old hardwood floors of the attic as well as mismatched chairs set on either side of the table with the lamp. "This place is adorable," I say beaming at Ollie.
"Well," He drops our bags in front of the wardrobe then sits on the edge of the bed close to the low wall and dips his head as to not bang it on the low angled roofline, "You get the inside of the bed."
"Obviously." I say giggling then a breeze of cool air rushes past me so I fold my arms and rub them, "There's a draft in here." I say finding the only small window and going to it to be sure it's closed correctly.
"Well, it's an attic. Or, it could be Dear! Guarenteed that bloke is dead. Probably buried in the back garden, if I'm going to be honest."
I chuckle and give him a dramatic eye roll and find the window is closed properly, this building is old there will be drafts, not ghosts.
"How's the blanket situation," He asks standing from the bed and steps to the wardrobe where he opens the double doors and finds one knitted blanket, "I'll go steal some blankets from the 'other guests'. Are you okay up here on your own?"
