Chapter 17

The open concept room was more like a parlor. It led to a kitchen that was so retro that it almost didn‘t look believable. The sink was a farmhouse style; the web like cracks beneath the old porcelain‘s patina was a testament to its authenticity. She walked over to the stove and opened the oven.

"It‘s real." Riley said proudly as if reading her mind. "There‘s a box of matches on the shelf there. You‘ll have to use them to start the flame. Other than that it works perfectly."

She moved to the refrigerator and pulled a lever on the door. When it opened it revealed a compartment with a tiny freezer that reminded her of the one that her grandmother had owned. She remembered it having layers of frozen ice that had to be chipped away with an ice pick, or a broken butcher knife.

"These are authentic…" she said in awe.

"Yes ma‘am. The appliances are all from either the 50‘s or 60‘s."

She looked at him again and this time she smiled. He called her ma‘am as if they weren‘t about the same age. "You can call me Stella."

He nodded. "Alright. And I‘m just Riley. And your son?"

"He‘s Adam."

Adam came into the kitchen. "Mom, the bathtub has feet, like paws!" He looked at Riley, his eyes wide and possibly a little worried. "The outside looks like that house from the book about Hansel and Gretel. An old witch lived in it and tried to murder them."

Riley appraised the boy and decided that he probably wasn‘t as old as eight; he was just big, big like his mom.

"In the fairy tale the house had candy stuck to the outside. That‘s how you know this isn‘t the same kind of house. There are no old witches with magic living here."

"The candy would be melted by now, anyways." Adam said seeming to be relieved.

"I always wondered why that witch would want to eat a couple of kids when she has a house made from all the best candy in the world." Stella said, giving Riley a look of gratitude for easing her son‘s mind.

"Even witches probably need protein." Adam said with a shrug.

Riley just glanced at Stella. How old was this kid? How old was he when he had stopped believing in fairytales?

"Alright, son. Take your backpack upstairs if you‘re claiming dibs on that room.

"Okay, Mom." He scooped up his belongings and hurried up the stairs.

When he was out of sight Stella gave Riley a half smile. "He‘s five and he loves fantasy stories."

"He‘s big for his age. I was like that too. Going to school being bigger than all the other kids didn‘t help when you wanted to stay unnoticed."

Stella stared at him as if he was revealing trade secrets. Her expression had gone serious. "You were a loner, Mister—uhm I mean, Riley?"

"Yep." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a large brass colored key with a plastic tag hanging from the end of it. "Here‘s the key to the house."

"Oh, and I have some money to give you," she said accepting the key. It looked like something you might get if you were renting at the Bates Motel, but she accepted it with a straight face.

He nodded. "I can show you the main house. It‘s where the washing machine and dryer are located. Then I‘ll write you out a receipt."

"Adam!" She called. "Come on!"

He darted down the stairs. "This house is so cool, Mom! There is a little teeny door in my room. I knocked, but no one answered."

Riley found himself smiling. He‘d done the same thing when he was a kid. His grandpa had pulled their leg and told them it was where the gnomes lived. He‘d played many gags on them, even leaving little miniature items around that either he or his brother and sister would discover. Grandpa then made a big production of fussing about the gnomes being messy…that hadn‘t been a little creepy...He wouldn‘t trick Adam like that.

"That‘s a crawlspace," Riley explained. "It‘s where we keep storage. There‘s just some old dishes and things in boxes back there." He‘d stored some of his grandmother‘s belongings there as well. He should probably put a padlock on it but the place had stood empty for so long that he hadn‘t thought about it. Anyway, if the kid wanted to steal a bunch of outdated dresses, shoes and hats then he probably had bigger issues than worrying about gnomes.

As they walked to the main house, Riley pointed out the property line. He explained that Adam shouldn‘t play by the road as cars took the turns without being able to see. He didn‘t mention that more than one child had been killed by a person driving blind around the big bend in the roads.

"You can feel free to use the washer and the dryer in the house but the clothes line out back is what most people use, especially with the weather so hot. Your clothes will likely dry in about an hour."

Once inside the main house Stella looked around curiously. It was very neat. She wondered if he was married.

"Do you have any children?" Stella asked.

"No." Riley replied. He looked at Adam. "There are some kids that live on Cobb Hill. The Jameson‘s don‘t live too far away and they have a little girl right about your age."

Adam didn‘t seem impressed. Yeah, he was probably at the age where little girls had cooties.

He led them to the kitchen. "Feel free to use the freezer chest in here. I realize that your fridge is pretty small."

Stella looked around. The house wasn‘t anything special but she liked it. It was old and worn but very clean. There was a butcher-block table in the middle of the large kitchen with several mix-matched wooden chairs situated around it. It was a table meant for a big family.

For some inexplicable reason she wanted to run her fingers along the worn wood of the table, but stopped herself. She normally preferred modern over traditional when it came to furnishings and designs but the style of both houses was to her liking.

They crossed a faded linoleum floor to a white-washed door. Once opened it revealed a small laundry room. When she saw an old matching gold washing machine and dryer Stella felt as if she was in a 1970s sitcom like The Brady Bunch. A Utility sink was next to it, an old boiler next to that. There was another door that probably contained the furnace. There wasn‘t a dust ball or cobweb in sight. She couldn‘t say the same for her laundry room—although hers didn‘t smell as if it had been recently doused in pine cleaner.