snow taps eagerly against the glass. There’s plenty of furniture lying about, but it’s all covered with white sheets. I reach out and feel a thin layer of dust gathered on the first armchair I find. I wipe it on my jeans and continue on through the house.
I find three more rooms in similar shape, populated with furniture, but obviously unused in quite some time. I swing back through to the foyer to see Charles sitting on the staircase, waiting for me.
“Are you a lonely man, Charles?” I ask him.
“No.”
I move around the staircase and enter the kitchen at the back of the house. Unlike the rest of the ground floor, I find signs of life. Two dirty plates lie stacked on top of each other in the sink, along with a few pieces of silverware and drinking glasses. I pull open the refrigerator and feel no surprise when I find it nearly empty, save the normal bare essentials.
I return to the foyer. “Why do you live here?” I ask him.
“This is my house,” he simply says.
“You obviously only use three rooms in the whole thing.”
“My parents liked to throw parties,” he mutters. “I hid away in the study.”
“Did you inherit all of this from them?”
“Yes.”
“Your business, too?”
“Yes.”
“Did you always want to run your father’s company?”
“No.”
“What did you want to do?”
“Something else.”
“Like what?”
He sighs and peers up at me from the corner of his eye. “Alice, you are exhausting.”
I step around him and start to climb the stairs.
“Alice…” He reaches out and grabs my ankle. I keep a hand on the banister to hold myself steady. “What do you expect to find?” He seems nervous but does a decent job at hiding it.
I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say. I stare down at his moonlight-drenched face and smile. “Is there something you’re scared I’ll find?”
He releases my ankle and sits back.
Instead of allowing me to explore the second floor on my own, Charles tails me up the stairs. He lingers behind me like a shadow as I push doors open one-by-one to find most of them in the same state as the downstairs.
“You don’t get very many guests,” I note.
He says nothing and merely looks on me with amusement as I piece his daily life together in my head.
Finally, we reach the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
The warmth of a second fireplace embraces me as I step inside. Charles closes the door behind us while I wander around the room. He leans against the door and slides his hands into his pockets, watching me closely.
“This is nice,” I say, admiring the decoration. “Does Harvey make your bed for you?” I brush my fingers over the duvet as I pass by the four-poster bed.
“No,” he answers, a smile on his voice.
“I’m just kidding,” I shoot back at him.
“I know.”
The vanity in the corner catches my eye. It seems out of place next to everything else in the room. I reach out to feel the smooth flower petals carved into the wood surrounding the mirror.
“It was my mother’s.”
“It’s beautiful.” I look back at him. “She didn’t want to keep it?”
“I’m sure she found another one in France just like it.”
“Is that where they are now?” I ask. “France?”
“Or Belgium. Spain. Ireland.”
“You don’t know?”
He shrugs and says nothing more.
“Sounds like a good life,” I say. I pull out the stool under the vanity and sit down. I try to imagine myself as royalty, with handmaidens at my sides and a vast array of cosmetics lined before me. I shake the thoughts from my head and catch sight of a photo album sitting on the corner.
As I reach over and lift the front cover, his hand appears from the shadows and forces it closed. I flinch with surprise. His sudden presence brings me great pause. I didn’t even see him move away from the door.
“Stand up,” he says in the darkness.
I obey slowly, hesitant to make any quick moves around him. My tongue taps the roof of my mouth. “What’s in
I find three more rooms in similar shape, populated with furniture, but obviously unused in quite some time. I swing back through to the foyer to see Charles sitting on the staircase, waiting for me.
“Are you a lonely man, Charles?” I ask him.
“No.”
I move around the staircase and enter the kitchen at the back of the house. Unlike the rest of the ground floor, I find signs of life. Two dirty plates lie stacked on top of each other in the sink, along with a few pieces of silverware and drinking glasses. I pull open the refrigerator and feel no surprise when I find it nearly empty, save the normal bare essentials.
I return to the foyer. “Why do you live here?” I ask him.
“This is my house,” he simply says.
“You obviously only use three rooms in the whole thing.”
“My parents liked to throw parties,” he mutters. “I hid away in the study.”
“Did you inherit all of this from them?”
“Yes.”
“Your business, too?”
“Yes.”
“Did you always want to run your father’s company?”
“No.”
“What did you want to do?”
“Something else.”
“Like what?”
He sighs and peers up at me from the corner of his eye. “Alice, you are exhausting.”
I step around him and start to climb the stairs.
“Alice…” He reaches out and grabs my ankle. I keep a hand on the banister to hold myself steady. “What do you expect to find?” He seems nervous but does a decent job at hiding it.
I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say. I stare down at his moonlight-drenched face and smile. “Is there something you’re scared I’ll find?”
He releases my ankle and sits back.
Instead of allowing me to explore the second floor on my own, Charles tails me up the stairs. He lingers behind me like a shadow as I push doors open one-by-one to find most of them in the same state as the downstairs.
“You don’t get very many guests,” I note.
He says nothing and merely looks on me with amusement as I piece his daily life together in my head.
Finally, we reach the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
The warmth of a second fireplace embraces me as I step inside. Charles closes the door behind us while I wander around the room. He leans against the door and slides his hands into his pockets, watching me closely.
“This is nice,” I say, admiring the decoration. “Does Harvey make your bed for you?” I brush my fingers over the duvet as I pass by the four-poster bed.
“No,” he answers, a smile on his voice.
“I’m just kidding,” I shoot back at him.
“I know.”
The vanity in the corner catches my eye. It seems out of place next to everything else in the room. I reach out to feel the smooth flower petals carved into the wood surrounding the mirror.
“It was my mother’s.”
“It’s beautiful.” I look back at him. “She didn’t want to keep it?”
“I’m sure she found another one in France just like it.”
“Is that where they are now?” I ask. “France?”
“Or Belgium. Spain. Ireland.”
“You don’t know?”
He shrugs and says nothing more.
“Sounds like a good life,” I say. I pull out the stool under the vanity and sit down. I try to imagine myself as royalty, with handmaidens at my sides and a vast array of cosmetics lined before me. I shake the thoughts from my head and catch sight of a photo album sitting on the corner.
As I reach over and lift the front cover, his hand appears from the shadows and forces it closed. I flinch with surprise. His sudden presence brings me great pause. I didn’t even see him move away from the door.
“Stand up,” he says in the darkness.
I obey slowly, hesitant to make any quick moves around him. My tongue taps the roof of my mouth. “What’s in
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