Threshold

by Sean Platt

  Scott ignored the lawyer’s finger.

  “Why did we need two planes to hear one paragraph? It’s not that I’m not grateful, Mr. Davenport …” Scott paused, unsure exactly what to say, or even how to say it. They had just been given something extraordinary enough to seem impossible.

  “We — myself and Mr. Galloway — knew when we drafted the will that we would need the three of you here. Would you have accepted the house without seeing it first? Yes, that’s likely. But who knew how long it would have been before you settled? Mr. Galloway required someone at the house immediately. He is a superstitious man, and the manor has never been left unattended. Someone from the family has always been here. He wanted — needed — to know you would be here as he passed, otherwise he would have had to make other plans.”

  “Then why the three days?” Scott asked.

  Davenport smiled sadly. “Because Mr. Galloway requested them. His life support was turned off as Johnston drove through the gates. He is being removed from the premises as we speak, per his wishes.”

  Scott stared at the lawyer as he tried to push through waves of unexpected information.

  “I know this is all quite sudden and confusing. I do apologize. But there could be no other way. Hopefully, you will see this as the opportunity it is, Mr. Dawson. For you and your family.” Davenport smiled and dragged his finger down the screen. “Guidelines have been sent to your email along with the will, and can also be seen here. Ignoring the rules will relinquish one hundred percent of the inheritance. You might think Holly’s Uncle Alastair is insane, but understand that crazy or not, if a single rule is broken, you will forfeit the fortune and be ejected from the property. The estate will then be destroyed.”

  “Destroyed?” Scott could hardly believe someone would go to such extremes over superstition. Hazel and Hudson were clearly considering the lawyer’s lunacy.

  Davenport nodded at the Dawsons.

  “The rules are simple, and we can go over them all if you’d like, but I suggest we start with the two most important.”

  Scott nodded.

  “One of your children must stay on the grounds at all times. From here on out, you must make Galloway Manor your permanent home. I cannot stress this enough: Leave, and you will lose everything.”

  Bluntly, Scott said, “So, you’re saying that we’re prisoners forever if we want the house and money?”

  “I don’t think Mr. Galloway would want you to feel like prisoners. And I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. You can leave, but only one at a time. Mr. Galloway is insistent that someone from the bloodline remains on premises at all times.” Davenport cleared his throat and turned to Scott. “You, however, Mr. Dawson, are free to go whenever you’d like.”

  Scott turned the odd request in his head, wondering what kind of weirdo Uncle Alastair was to have such odd stipulations. I’ll give you more money than you could ever want, but you have to abide by my superstitious nonsense. No wonder Holly had never mentioned him.

  “As you can imagine, an estate as large as Galloway Manor takes a tremendous amount of care and maintenance. Its general health is as important as a person’s. The staff ensures that its heart keeps beating and its muscles stay strong. The manor’s most important muscle is the caretaker, Carter. And that man will be here until he dies. Carter lives in the servant wing along with your two maids, Jacquelyn and Mara; Able, the gardener; Johnston, whom you’ve already met — he does some general maintenance along with the driving; Garza, the chef; and Don, our handyman. Nothing he can’t do. Keeps the manor looking just so, like his great-great-grandfather did back when the manor was first built. We’ll also bring in the best teachers in the state to homeschool you kids.”

  “Cool!” Hudson grinned. “I don’t have to go to school anymore. What’s the other condition?”

  “All staff are permitted to stay so long as they continue to fulfill their duties. They, in their way, are also part of the family, and their salaries are provided for in the will.” The lawyer sighed appreciatively. “I can’t imagine how much this is to take in, and I’m sure you have plenty of questions.” He turned to Hudson, who was clearly most excited. “What do you think?”

  “So, all of this. It’s all ours — for real?”

  “For real. As long as you follow the conditions set forth in the will.”

  “But we can’t leave?” Hudson scrunched his nose.

  “You can leave, but never together. With you two,” he looked from Hudson to his sister, “it can only be one at a time. Someone in the family, in the bloodline, which doesn’t include your father, must remain here.”

  “That’s crazy,” Hudson said, tucking hair behind his ear. “I mean, it’s cool, and I’m happy to do it. But it’s nuts, no doubt.”

  Scott shot Hudson a look. Hazel eyed her brother like he was stupid.

  The lawyer smiled. “My family has served the Galloways for generations. I understand the need for preservation better than most people could. So no, I don’t think it’s crazy, but I certainly understand why you would. Perfectly natural. As the manor becomes your home, I believe you will come to see things as Mr. Galloway has.”

  “Well, what if we get sick or something?” Hudson asked.

  “There are doctors we can access immediately.” Davenport turned to Hazel, dismissing her brother. “How are you feeling?”

  Hazel said nothing. Scott wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

  “Well then,” Davenport leaned back and looked at the Dawsons. “If you wouldn’t mind, Hudson and Hazel, I’d like a moment alone with your father. Would that be okay?”

  Before either could answer, and as if working from a pre-scripted cue, there came a loud, decisive knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Davenport called. The door opened, and a pretty woman, likely in her late forties, entered the library. She had long, straight black hair, a flowing white skirt, a perfectly tailored cream-colored blouse, and a beautiful string of pearls like a halo at her neck. Her smile seemed to warm the room by several degrees.

  “Hello. My name is Jacquelyn. My daughter, Mara, and I live and work here at the manor. I oversee the day-to-day stuff and am here to help with whatever you might need. I’d love to show you both around. Give you a tour. Cookies included, of course.”

  “Let’s go.” Hudson laughed, already up from his seat. He turned to Scott, said, “Have fun,” then clapped Hazel on her shoulder.

  Hazel stayed quiet, and leaned into Scott.

  “Don’t be a chicken,” Hudson said.

  Scott leaned into Hazel’s ear and whispered, “Please. I need you to do this one more thing for me. Whatever you see — whatever you see or hear, Hazel — I want to hear about it. Just keep it to yourself until I see you, okay?”

  Scott pictured Hazel freaking out and told himself that she wouldn’t. He smiled, flush with relief as she smiled back. “Okay, Dad.” She hugged him, stood, then followed her brother and Jacquelyn out of the room.

  Davenport waited three beats after the door closed. “There is one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “If you were to look this house up online, which I’m certain you’ll want to do the moment you’re able, you will see that twenty-nine years ago Alastair’s daughter, Savannah, died in her room. Some of the people in Clovis Point have claimed that they’ve … seen her. Many of the townsfolk like to entertain notions that Galloway Manor is haunted. And of course, you know how rumors spread. This manor is a place of note in the Pacific Northwest, particularly for those seeking things that don’t exist.”

  “Things like what?”

  “Like ghosts, Mr. Dawson. Of course.”

  Scott thought of Hazel. “Is there a blonde girl who lives here now? My daughter said she saw a blonde girl in the upstairs window.”

  “No,” Davenport shook his head. “There are no blonde girls here. Our youngest staff member is Mara; she is twenty-four, and a brunette. Might it have been Hazel’s imagination?”

  Scott
sighed. “Things have been tough since her mother … well, you know. Tell me, would we move in immediately?”

  “Yes. You can stay right now. And as long as you’re here, the money is yours, all of it, to do with as you wish. You can order whatever you’d like online and have it delivered to the manor. Unless you’re planning on buying a state, you can never spend it all.”

  “So, even if we leave in a year, the money’s ours until then?”

  “Correct.”

  “Could we buy ourselves a house and move into that, if we wanted? Could we move back into our old house that you bought?”

  “Yes, you could do that, but you would forfeit this home and the remaining fortune once you left. And you seem like a smarter man than that, Mr. Dawson.”

  “What if the kids want a life, you know, at the same time?” Scott kept laughing — it was all so ridiculous. “What then?”

  “Leave when you want,” Davenport said with an air of finality to match his thinning smile. “Enjoy it until you do.”

  Scott couldn’t imagine ever wanting — or needing — to leave the manor for anything ever again. But unlike his children, he could go whenever he wanted. He should consult with Hudson and Hazel, but it wasn’t as if they had a choice. The Dawsons had nothing—no home, money, or anyone else to lean on.

  Scott looked at Davenport, swallowed, and held out his hand.

  “We’ll take it.”

  * * * *

  HUDSON

  The lawyer, Davenport, seemed like a tool, but was still Hudson’s personal Lord and Savior for having pulled them from the gutter where they’d spent the last six months after Mom skipped town for who-knew-why, off to who-knows-where, with —Hudson felt increasingly certain — who-knew-whom.

  Dad was still in the room talking to the lawyer while he and Hazel finished their cookies.

  “Do you like them?” Jacquelyn asked.

  Hudson nodded, grabbed another, and shoved the entire thing past his lips. Her own mouth full, Hazel blurted, “They’re really good.”

  The parlor door opened. Dad entered the dining area with the lawyer. They paused on the other side, trading whispers. Dad nodded as he looked toward Hudson and Hazel. The lawyer approached their table as Dad went to Jacquelyn and said something in a low voice that Hudson couldn’t hear. She smiled, nodded, and left the room.

  The lawyer spoke as Dad came up behind him. “We’re going to introduce you to Charlie Carter, Galloway Manor’s caretaker. He’ll expect you to call him Carter. He’s been working with the Galloways forever, and has requested that he be the one to show you around.”

  “I asked Jacquelyn to get him,” Dad announced.

  “Excellent.” The lawyer nodded, then killed minutes with irritating small talk while waiting for Carter to arrive.

  After feeling like crap for months, Hudson had to chew his bottom lip to bottle the joyous laughter that kept wanting to burst out. They’d gone from losing their house to rolling in stacks of dough. If this was a movie, Hudson wouldn’t believe it. He kept looking into the room’s corners, up at the ceiling, outside the windows onto the sprawling lawns, and even on the floor, searching carpet seams and everywhere else for any sign of a small red light that might indicate a hidden camera for some prank show or channel on Youtube. This had to be a joke. Someone was watching. They would leap out, yell gotcha, have them sign release papers, pay them a small participation fee, and put their family on a reality show. Real Life Suckers!, or something like that.

  Fine with Hudson. At least it was a change. Reality shows were as stupid as the people who stuffed their DVRs full of them, but at least the Dawsons weren’t in Las Orillas waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fan.

  The door opened, and the lawyer sparked to attention. He spun toward the tall old man as Carter entered the dining room. His face was ancient, but he ambled into the room like a kid. His shoulders were strong, rather than sagged with age. His face was lined like a tattered map, but his eyes were bright. His hair was a shock of snowy white, with single strands of black that looked as out of place as the pepper in his beard.

  He nodded at Jacquelyn on his way to the cookies, hedged between a macadamia nut and a chocolate chip, then grabbed the macadamia and shoved half of the cookie into his mouth. He showed only slightly more restraint than Hudson, raining crumbs and spittle onto the table. He swallowed, looked up at Dad, and thrust out his hand.

  “I’m Carter. Good to meet you.”

  Dad held out his hand. “Good to meet you, Mr. Carter.”

  “Just Carter. Call me Mr. or Charlie, and I’ll have to poison your food.” After too long a pause, Carter — whom Hudson had decided to like after only a moment — added, “Just kidding,” then laughed loudly as he smacked Dad’s arm playfully.

  Wow, this dude is full-on crazy! Now I know this has to be a TV show!

  Carter’s laughter seemed to make the lawyer nervous. Davenport mopped his brow and tapped his foot, waiting for the old man to speak. Carter finally clapped the lawyer’s shoulder. “Want me to take it from here?”

  He looked relieved. “That would be great, Carter. Thank you.”

  Jacquelyn and the lawyer left together. Carter watched them go, then turned back toward the newcomers. “So, did Atticus Finch tell you the house is haunted?”

  Hudson and Hazel traded glances, neither knowing who Atticus Finch was.

  “Yes, Mr. Davenport informed me about a few of the local rumors, in private, so as not to freak out my children.” Dad looked first at Hazel then accusingly at Carter.

  The old man swatted the air and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie. “Dog balls. Davenport’s just scared you’ll see the ghosts and take off!”

  “Ghosts?” Hazel asked, eyes wide.

  Hudson laughed. “He’s just messing with us.”

  Carter met his eyes, and gave him the oddest, most unsettling smile that Hudson had ever seen.

  “Right?” Hudson asked.

  Carter put a hand on Hazel’s shoulder. “The ghosts have never hurt anyone, sweetie, no need to worry. Less harmless than the vermin on the grounds.”

  Hazel shook her head. “I don’t want to stay here.”

  Hudson noticed Dad’s uncomfortable expression. A look that said it was too late — he’d already signed.

  Dad asked, “Does anyone who lives here not think the manor is haunted?”

  Carter laughed, slapped his hand on the table, and said nothing, shaking his head like Dad and his question were equally ridiculous.

  “I don’t want to live here,” Hazel said again, pouting.

  Hudson had to steer the ship away from the rocks before Hazel screwed this up for everyone. But he had to be diplomatic about it, lest she’d dig her heels in further, and they’d be on the first flight back to California.

  “First off, I don’t believe in ghosts, but let’s just say you’re right — why would anyone want to live in a haunted house?” Hudson grabbed a cookie, waiting for an answer, hoping Carter would say something to alleviate Hazel’s skittishness.

  The old man shrugged. “Whether you believe is irrelevant to the facts, and besides, ghosts ain’t nothin’ but energy — left by those who lived here before. Some part of us that never dies, stuck here for whatever reason. That’s the best I can describe it. Energy that every now and then gathers enough steam to blow a window wide open, maybe knock something over, but that’s it, really.”

  Hudson looked at his sister, trying to gauge her response.

  She was staring at Carter with wide eyes, still looking scared. “I saw a ghost in a window upstairs. A blonde girl.”

  Hudson rolled his eyes and wanted to say something to shut his sister up, but the way Carter regarded her words seriously changed his mind.

  “You saw her?” he asked as if surprised, even though he’d already admitted to seeing them himself.

  “Yes,” Hazel said, slowly nodding.

  “That was probably Savannah,” he said, a wistful look in his eyes.

&
nbsp; “Who is she?” Hazel asked.

  “Mr. Galloway’s daughter. A lovely girl who died too young.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Hazel!” Dad said as if she’d asked a rude question, even though it was the exact question that Hudson had wanted to ask.

  “No, no, it’s okay,” Carter said. “It was an accident, a long time ago. But trust me, if you saw her, that means she likes you. She doesn’t show herself to many.”

  “She doesn’t?” Hazel asked, almost warming to the idea like the weird little sister she was.

  “No, and you should consider yourself lucky to have seen her.”

  “Will she come back? Will she hurt us?”

  Carter shook his head and laughed. “Hurt you? Heavens no. We just see them every now and then, but that’s it, really. If there was any danger, none of us would be here.”

  Hazel looked down at the floor, then back up at Carter. “Do you think I’ll see my mom?”

  Sharply, Hudson said, “Don’t even start.”

  Dad broke in before they started fighting. “I think you were going to show us the house, Mis … I mean, Carter.”

  “Just this way,” Carter said with a smile, leading them through the hallway.

  The Dawsons followed. Hudson took the rear, still searching for cameras on his way to the door. Carter led them outside, showing them the guest house, the garage, a garden and gazebo, then pointed to the woods and streams lining the property. It all looked like it was from some remote vacation spot, not someone’s house.

  As much as the grounds impressed him, the manor was the main attraction.

  It was a freaking castle, at least on the outside, built in the 1800s, then added on to and improved throughout the years by Hudson’s ancestors, who were obviously filthy rich. Hudson made a note to later ask Carter what the Great Great Great or Whatever Galloways did for a living to build such wealth. Had they been pioneers who got lucky during the gold rush? Or were they a powerful political family back in the day? Maybe both?

  And now he and his family had inherited all of it.

  It was too much to take in. Too much to believe. This was the sort of thing that happened to other people. Not him. He remembered when a good friend of his, Billy Harcourt, found out a rich grandma had left them a ton of money. Billy’s family moved to a nicer town, to a better school, and that was the last Hudson had ever seen him. He’d known at least four kids whose families had come into unexpected wealth, and each and every time they moved away never to be seen again. While Hudson had been happy for his friends, he’d also felt envious.