Present Day
Summer Jewel left her briefcase on the bench in the mudroom. “Aunt Em, I’m home.” The only response was her soft sigh in the empty air, which led her to a familiar conclusion that Aunt Em was likely at the Heartsville Community Center, lost in the thrill of bingo and the company of her new beau, Bob.
She shrugged and entered the kitchen. After pouring herself a glass of milk, she perched on a barstool and indulged in a chocolate chip cookie from the Cookie Monster jar–one small comfort that reminded her of simpler times. That’s when she spotted the note:
Darling, I’ll be late getting in. I left your dinner in the microwave. Don’t wait up. Love, Aunt Emily.
Summer’s thoughts drifted to Aunt Em’s newfound love and her own solitary heart. After falling in love with Bob, the change in her aunt’s life gave Summer hope that she might find love someday.
The years since college had been a quiet parade of uneventful days and lonely nights. The inheritance from her parents—the house, the family bookstore, Jewel’s Literary Gems, and a considerable sum— was a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost.
She would’ve given it all back to have them in her life. Twenty years ago, her mom and dad had chartered a plane for a romantic weekend getaway that turned disastrous—neither the aircraft, black box, nor her parents’ bodies had ever been found. At nine, she had been too young to remember much about it. Aunt Emily, her father’s sister, had raised her. The tragic mystery of their disappearance left a void no wealth could fill.
Her reverie was broken by a loud backfire from a vehicle outside, followed by grinding gears. Curiosity piqued, Summer approached the entertainment room and peered through the three-inch wooden blinds. She watched a moving van pull in and park across the street in front of the old Victorian house she’d always admired. The place had sat empty for years. She once heard that the house had been part of a large farm. She loved the old Victorian’s steep, varied, red-shingled rooflines, towers, and turrets and adored the stained-glass windows with their gingerbread trim work.
The house had always seemed a bit out of place in their neighborhood. The lovely old home’s renovation had started last year and looked complete from her vantage point. Whoever the owners were, they’d kept the charming home’s character. Craning her neck, she couldn’t tell if the newcomers were a family.
Summer ventured out the side pedestrian door, her gaze drawn to the moving activity. Three men were unloading furniture from the truck, one clearly in charge. As their eyes met, Summer felt a sudden rush of nervousness.
She approached her mailbox, and one of the men raised his hand in greeting. She fumbled with a piece of junk mail. “Moving in?” she called out.
He walked to the end of the driveway. “Hi, I’m Erik, the designer.” Without waiting for her response, he quickly asked, “Have you ever met the owners?”
How odd. “Um. No. Why? Haven’t you?”
“I hoped you might know them. We worked through an attorney who never disclosed their names.” He shrugged. “No harm in asking.”
“I love the house. Is there any chance I could peek inside?” Sure, it was forward of her, but it might be the only way to satisfy her curiosity.
Erik nodded. “This is our last load of furniture, so why not? I love showing off my work.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m posting the project online. I would appreciate it if you’d leave a glowing comment on social media.” His hands tented.
“Sure thing.” Summer hated social media but took his card anyway.
She followed him up the painted plank steps through the open door.
An elaborate crystal chandelier hung in the entry. In front of her, the rich mahogany staircase dazzled against a backdrop of blue-green textured walls. A baby grand piano was positioned in the living room corner to the left of a rock fireplace. The art over the mantel looked like a Renoir. She wondered if it was an original or a reproduction.
Then something weird happened. The hair on her neck and arms rose. She had a deja vu feeling as if she had been there before. Trying to shake off the unsettling sensation, she turned in a slow circle and said, “It’s beautiful, better than I even imagined. I love it!”
Erik seemed pleased with her assessment, grinning from ear to ear. “I chose warm, rich colors. I can’t stand the fact that most designers are like sheep. The minimalists’ interior design with white is so overused and blah,” he said with an eye roll. “I updated the lighting fixtures and completely renovated the central kitchen. It’s three stories with the attic and a downstairs complete with a cookery and staff rooms.”
A mover dropped one end of a very expensive-looking bureau. Erik shouted, “Do not scratch the floors or furniture.” Then he glanced apologetically at Summer. “I’ve got to work. I have a deadline with instructions to leave the house by seven o’clock this evening. Feel free to look around.”
Yippee—freedom’s call echoed in her heart, inviting her to explore uninhibited. Summer drifted through the library first. Its walls were lined with ancient, leather-bound books. The scent of old paper and the hushed tales of forgotten lore surrounded her, igniting a thrill only a true book lover could understand and appreciate. Each step was a dance with history as her fingers trailed over the spines, noting the weight in their textured covers.
The library seamlessly gave way to an entertainment room, where contemporary met old-world design, asserting itself with an audacious flair. A large, ultra-high-definition television screen dominated one wall, surrounded by a state-of-the-art sound system. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from cleverly hidden sources, casting a glow that accentuated luxurious furnishings from the plush, angular sofa to the gleaming, geometric coffee table.
The kitchen made a bold statement with its brand-new stainless-steel appliances, rustic oak cabinets, and white and gray marble counters. The walk-in pantry door was ajar, so she peeked inside to find it vast and orderly, a trove of culinary possibilities. She suspected exotic spices and gourmet delights filled the closed shelves and drawers.
Adjacent to this culinary haven, a set of narrow, almost secretive steps curled upward, their very existence a whisper of intrigue. She glanced furtively over her shoulder. Erik was absorbed in positioning the remaining pieces in the living room.
Her pulse quickened with the thrill of undercover exploration. Memories of countless novels she had devoured over the years surged within her—a cascade of adventures, hidden rooms, and undiscovered treasures that had always seemed worlds away were now seemingly within her grasp. With each step into the unknown, her pulse quickened with anticipation, and her mind buzzed. What secrets and mysteries lay hidden in this century-old home?
Summer hustled up the stairs, bypassed the second floor, and continued into the attic. She’d long fantasized about writing a novel in such a superb, renovated space with its black, charcoal walls and a shade darker woodwork, a cozy white sofa with black and gold accent pillows—and how she loved the black lacquer desk. The lighting included several sconces with candle-like bulbs that glimmered warmly. It was a nice touch. She murmured, “Totally jealous of the owners.”
She peered through the horizontally installed cameo windows, the view of which looked directly at her house. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shimmering swirling blue light materialized on the other side of the room. It formed a doorway of sorts, like beams of a hidden sun trapped within its frame, defying the laws of physics and reality.
What the heck? Summer cautiously approached, each step filled with fear and fascination. She reached out tentatively toward the opening, her hand trembling slightly. Was it a gateway to worlds unseen?
