How did he find a driver who’s available on a moment’s notice?
Is The Restorer one of my neighbors? One of the many people who hate me?
I don’t think so. But that would mean he had to call a car service. The closest ones are at least thirty minutes out, even this late, when traffic is nonexistent.
My teeth graze my bottom lip absentmindedly. Then a smile breaks across my face when I decide that no, it’s not that strange.
After all, The Restorer chose me. He answered instantly because he’s been waiting for my reply.
Soon, I’ll find out why.
Until that happens, I’m going to trust that something in me is worth nurturing. Worth choosing. Worth…restoring?
I don’t know. If I don’t get on this ride, I probably never will. Tears of joy and relief roll down my cheeks as I type back a message, telling him I’ll be there.
My heart punches at my ribs as I shoot a resignation text to my boss. After that, I delete the messages and The Restorer’s number. Next, I change into a pair of jeans and a gray blouse. On top of that, I throw on a peacoat and shove my feet into my boots.
As quietly as possible, I tread through the hallway, the stairs, the foyer.
I’m going through with it, and that’s final.
5
ELOWYN
Tension tightens my stomach as the car slows, following the curve of the long, paved road that leads to The Estate.
When the driver announced where we were going, the name hadn’t meant anything to me.
But now?—
The gates.
The ironwork.
The silhouette on the hill.
“Oh.” The sound tumbles from my lips.
So that’s what he meant when he said The Estate.
This place, not its name, is infamous in town and the surrounding counties.
My mother would always murmur, “that poor house” on the rare occasions we passed it. She was right. You really do ache for this place.
The sprawling mansion is perched on a lonely rise, half hidden by elms and beeches that bow together. Tall enough to be visible behind the black steel gates and the high wall surrounding the place, their gold and red leaves burn through the darkness of the night.
But other than them and the mansion itself, there’s never been much else. With no cars in the driveway, no lights in the windows, and no hint of life in there, it’s been abandoned.
Until now.
Ember light shines through a few windows. Three cars sit at the far end of the drive, two of them SUVs, angled toward the entrance.
Someone finally lives here. The Restorer.
A quiet, needling warning pricks at my nerves, insisting this isn’t right.
The ominous feeling intensifies the farther up the hill we climb. I hug my coat tighter, teeth catching on my bottom lip.
