Inside was a deed to an old cabin on a large wooded property in the mountains of western North Carolina.
I recognized the address.
Thomas’s grandparents had owned the original cabin.
He had inherited it many years before we married.
We visited occasionally when Jared was small, but the place was damp, drafty, and difficult to maintain.
I remembered rusty pipes and a fireplace that filled the living room with smoke.
For the past two years, Thomas had spent occasional weekends there whenever his health permitted.
“Fixing a few things,” he always said.
I assumed he meant repairing damage and preparing the property for sale.
Vanessa looked at my papers.
Then she laughed.
Not a quiet laugh.
A sharp, delighted laugh.
“Honestly, Leah, that place is perfect for you.”
Jared shifted in his chair.
“Vanessa.”
“What?
I’m being serious.
She likes old things.
Quiet places.
Trees.”
She smiled at me.
