Madelyn "Lyn" Creeke and her grandmother were the last of their family. At least, that's what Lyn's grandmother always led her to believe.
Lyn had never heard of or seen pictures of Georgina Creeke, a great aunt that had been living a few hours awa...
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Unfortunately, it would take some time before I got to the quiet solitude of my aunt's grand estate. I wasn't the only one looking to skip town the night before Thanksgiving and I spent the next hour sitting in a cab waiting for traffic to inch forward towards Whitmere's central station. Once there, I kept my suitcase tight against my leg so no distracted travelers tripped over my bag and fell onto the rails. Fortunately, once my train arrived, I got some air to breathe. Seeing as it was the holidays and the closest thing to a vacation that I'd taken in years, I splurged on the nicest seat on the train. With leg room and an empty seat next to me, I stretched out my sore muscles and allowed the quiet of the train car to soothe my nerves. By the time we had broken past Whitmere's busy city limits, skirted by the sleepy suburbs, and thundered alongside sprawling farms, I had settled completely into a zen state.
Then my phone rang.
"Are you telling me he still won't recognize me as the owner?"
The rising growl in my voice caught a couple of curious glances from the other passengers in the first-class train car. Remembering the courteous quiet they had granted me, I glanced over at them and flashed an apologetic smile before huddling closer to the window and watching the blur of near naked trees disappear behind the foggy condensation of my breath.
"He won't let me in until you have the deed in hand," replied Marshall, one of the finest appraisers in the city and a bit of an expert on old colonial manor homes like my aunt's.
"Surely the lawyer has the keys. I told her I was coming up to Hereford Hills today. I'm on the train as we speak."
"She doesn't... running the BnB... I don't think..." His voice broke up as we glided along the edge of a mountain, whose shadow stood between me and the nearest cell phone tower.
"What?" I asked, pressing a finger in my other ear so that not even the rumble of the train wheels could disturb our conversation. "Reception sucks up here. I haven't seen civilization for the past half hour."
"I said she doesn't have the keys. Mr. Wells needs them for tending to the BnB and he hasn't gotten around to making duplicates. He seems to come up with a new reason every time I've stopped by. I just don't think this is going to happen before Thanksgiving."
"It's mine now though," I said through clenched teeth as I massaged my temple. "I own this building. Why is this so hard for people? I should have the police come and evict him off my property, then we can get you in there."
"You'd have to convince the police you're you too," he added, and I could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "This is a small town, Ms. Creeke. They're loyal to a fault and I don't think they frankly like the fact I'm even here."
"But it's my... Do I need to bring my lawyer into this?" I asked, my voice low with tempered frustration.
"No, I don't think they'll give you any problems or keep you from what's legally yours. It's just... they won't do you any favors until they have to. And, at the end of the day, they can't know it's you until you come in and provide proof of identity. They don't want to hand over the house until they know for sure it's going to the right person. It's a bit extreme, but all completely legal. You just need to get here."
