Silence. Michelle was probably holding her tongue so she wouldn't say, 'I told you so.' Smart woman. "So what's the free house look like? Is it as bad as you expected?" she finally asked.
"No. Super cute! I can't believe this place hasn't sold. Definite curb appeal, the architecture looks old but freshly painted. Hold on, I'm going inside."
I fumbled in my pocket for the key and turned it in the brass lock. The door opened, and the sun cast a square of light on the floor around my silhouette. I patted the wall for the light switch and soon an elegant chandelier glowed from above.
"Wow, Michelle, it's fabulous! You have got to see this. Hardwood floors, two-story foyer, curved staircase." I walked into the kitchen. "Holy crow, stainless steel appliances!"
Michelle squealed on the other end of the phone. We were both expecting a dump. I mean, after I had to crawl to my real estate agent dad for help, I kind of thought the unsellable place he gave me to stay would be a punishment. Compared to my last apartment-or worse, the dorm room Michelle and I lived in at college-this place was a palace.
"Hold on, I'm going to check out the rest." I walked to the front of the house and opened the curtains, bathing the main floor in natural light. The place had an elegant dining room and a family room with a flat-screen television. The living room's floral print screamed old lady, but I wasn't complaining. The furniture looked new. I talked Michelle through the tour, bounding up the stairs two at a time to check out the bedrooms. Besides a little dust, the place was meticulously maintained.
On the second-floor landing, I attempted to toss back the curtains to have a look at my new backyard but the rings caught on the antique cast iron rod. I wrestled with the damask, catching a glimpse of what was beyond the glass. My heart sank into my gut, and, distracted, I dropped my phone. I tried to catch it with my other hand, but it bounced off my palm. Thankfully, the thick carpet of the landing saved me from certain communication purgatory.
"Grateful? You still there?"
I scrambled to return the phone to my ear. "I think I figured out why this house hasn't sold yet," I said.
"Why? Is the yard small?"
Turning back toward the window, I gave the curtains one last firm yank. They gave way, rewarding me with a clear view. The yard sloped from the house toward a weathered, wrought iron fence that bordered the property. Behind the fence, row after row of tombstones stretched across the landscape, with the odd mausoleum thrown in for good measure. The graveyard I'd seen driving into Red Grove extended all the way to my back door.
"My backyard is a cemetery," I deadpanned.
"Seriously? Is that even legal?"
"I've gotta go, Michelle," I said. "I need to take this up with my realtor."
"Okay. Say hi to your dad for me."
* * * * *
I paced the floral living room, trying to keep my voice from climbing to the octave of hysteria. I was pretty close. Any higher and dogs would come running. "Dad, you could have told me."
"Sweetheart, it's nothing. Keep the drapes closed and no one will ever know."
"Don't you think an important piece of information to share with a potential homeowner is the number of dead people buried in the backyard?"
"Now, don't overreact. First of all, may I remind you, you are not the homeowner but a custodian, so to speak. And think of it this way-your neighbors are quiet, keep-to-themselves type of people." I heard a muffled chuckle.
"I can hear you laughing," I said. "I've told you before, putting your hand over the receiver does not work. Can't you understand why this might freak me out a little? I'm here all alone."
"I'm telling you, a few nights there, and you'll forget why you were ever worried," Dad said. "Plus, if you get scared, the caretaker of the cemetery lives just over the bridge from you. Come to think of it, he would probably give you a tour if you wanted. Maybe that would put you at ease."
"Oh sure, a tour of the cemetery with some old, creepy caretaker is just what I need to feel at home!" My voice was rising again. I was painfully close to looking the gift horse in the mouth.
"Grateful, I love you."
"I know, Dad."
"I wouldn't put you in harm's way."
"I know, Dad."
"I stocked the refrigerator for you..."
Like that mattered. We were talking about dead people here.
"...and the wine cellar."
