of mail on her newsroom desk, something inside of her—the last of a decades-old brittle hope—had snapped.
So here she stood, swallowed up in the long, late-afternoon shadow of Belville Park, feet rooted to the sidewalk just outside the wrought-iron gate. Her childhood home peered back at her from yawning windows evenly spaced between slabs of white-gray stone, braided ivy climbing the west wall.
It waited, stately and still, as if sensing the coming goodbye—this house that had never been the same after Aunt Lauren disappeared.
“So, are we going in?” Paige Parker’s thick Southern drawl did little to veil her curiosity, anticipation swimming in the younger woman’s eyes.
Probably a normal reaction for anyone taking in Belville Park for the first time. After all, the massive house and surrounding grounds looked like the kind of estate that belonged on the outskirts of a wealthy New England neighborhood or, better, the English countryside . . . not in the middle of small-town Iowa.
“I should warn you it’s not as impressive inside. I mean, yeah, there’s twenty-four rooms, including a master suite that’s bigger than the whole Maple Valley News office, but my parents weren’t exactly up to Marie Kondo standards by the end.”
A hoarder’s paradise—that’s what Lucas had called the house once.
He wasn’t wrong.
Although, it wasn’t fair to entirely blame Mom and Dad for the state of the house. While it was their shared four decades’ worth of possessions cluttering the mansion, Jenessa was the one who’d left half-packed boxes and bags strewn about the place before giving up on the overwhelming task of sorting through their things.
The interior might be a neglected mess, but she had every intention of whipping the patio out back into shape for tonight’s gathering with her best friends—a little celebration of Mara and Marshall’s engagement. She’d have rather hosted the small party at the Everwood where they all lived at the moment, but considering Mara owned the place, keeping it a surprise would’ve been impossible.
Paige shifted the boxes in her hands, her short brown braids peeking out underneath her ball cap, tangled twinkle lights spilling out of the top box. “Well, I still want a tour, no matter what it looks like inside. Why do you think I offered to help you lug all these decorations here?”
Jenessa grinned. “I thought maybe you were still brown-nosing, trying to impress the ol’ boss by going above and beyond the call of duty.” And it wouldn’t be the first time. Honestly, hiring Paige at the newspaper this summer might’ve been the smartest business move Jenessa had ever made.
Sure, buying the News three years ago and bringing it back from the brink of financial ruin had been a fun challenge at the time, a nice distraction from the difficulties of caring for both Mom and Dad in their final years. But the thrill of running it singlehandedly had lost some of its luster lately.
Or maybe it was just the weight of this house and all it represented dragging down her spirits in recent weeks—months, really. Maybe once she let go, decluttered her life a little, she’d feel a glimmer of the old Jenessa. The one who didn’t have to force her buoyant disposition or stay busy to convince herself the life she’d chosen was actually the life she wanted.
“Let me get this sign in the ground and then we’ll go in.”
A light nudge was all it took for the gate to swing wide, creaking into the pull of the wind. Curled leaves tumbled over the sprawling lawn, the branches of the towering walnut tree in the front yard rustling against the usual quiet of the neighborhood.
Jenessa tucked her chin into the collar of her denim coat and stepped onto the brick path that led to the massive front door. The entrance was flanked on both sides by empty bronze urns and topped by a half-circle window of swirled glass. Prickly, untrimmed hedges lined the walkway and fanned out in front of the house.
Not exactly the homiest of pictures—no cozy porch or swaying wooden swing—but then, Belville Park hadn’t felt like home in years.
Which was exactly why she’d decided it was finally time. Mom had been gone a year; Dad, nearly two. And this place was far too big and, worse, far too crowded with memories, old sights and sounds she’d never be able to shake.
Dad’s yells and Mom’s tears and Aunt Lauren running from the house . . .
Closure, that’s what she needed. No more stalling, hoping if she waited long enough