Here we are, Dad said.
They pulled off the road onto a gravel driveway.
Kendra could see no sign of a house, only the driveway angling out of sight into the trees.
Tires crunching over the gravel, they passed several signs advertising that they were on private property. Other signs warded off trespassers. They came to a low metal gate that hung open but could be shut to prevent access.
This is the longest driveway in the world! Seth complained.
The farther they advanced, the less conventional the signs became. Private Property and No Trespassing gave way to Beware of .12 Gauge and Trespassers Will Be Persecuted.
These signs are funny, Seth said.
More like creepy, Kendra muttered.
Rounding another bend, the driveway reached a tall, wrought-iron fence topped with fleurs-de-lis. The double gate stood open. The fence extended off into the trees as far as Kendra could see in either direction. Near the fence stood a final sign: Certain Death Awaits.
Is Grandpa Sorenson paranoid? Kendra asked.
The signs are a joke, Dad said. He inherited this land. I'm sure the fence came with it.
After they passed through the gate, there was still no house in sight. Just more trees and shrubs. They drove across a small bridge spanning a creek and climbed a shallow slope. There the trees ended abruptly, bringing the house into view across a vast front lawn.
The house was big, but not enormous, with lots of gables and even a turret. After the wrought-iron gate, Kendra had expected a castle or a mansion. Constructed out of dark wood and stone, the house looked old but in good repair. The grounds were more impressive. A bright flower garden bloomed in front of the house. Manicured hedges and a fish pond added character to the yard. Behind the house loomed an immense brown barn, at least five stories tall, topped by a weather vane.
I love it, Mom said. I wish we were all staying.
You've never been here? Kendra asked.
No. Your father came here a couple of times before we were married.
They go the extra mile to discourage visitors, Dad said. Me, Uncle Carl, Aunt Sophie-none of us have spent much time here. I don't get it. You kids are lucky.
You'll have a blast. If nothing else, you can spend your time playing in the pool.
They pulled to a stop outside the garage.
The front door opened and Grandpa Sorenson emerged, followed by a tall, lanky man with large ears and a thin, older woman. Mom, Dad, and Seth got out of the car. Kendra sat and watched.
Grandpa had been clean-shaven at the funeral, but now he wore a stubbly white beard. He was dressed in faded jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt.
Kendra studied the older woman. She was not Grandma Sorenson. Despite her white hair streaked with a few black strands, her face had an ageless quality. Her almond eyes were black as coffee, and her features suggested a hint of Asian ancestry. Short and slightly stooped, she retained an exotic beauty.
Dad and the lanky man opened the back of the SUV and began removing suitcases and duffel bags. You coming, Kendra? Dad asked.
Kendra opened the door and dropped to the gravel.
Just place the things inside, Grandpa was telling Dad.
Dale will take them up to the bedroom.
Where's Mom? Dad asked.
Visiting your Aunt Edna.
In Missouri?
Edna's dying.
Kendra had barely ever heard of Aunt Edna, so the news did not mean much. She looked up at the house. She noticed that the windows had bubbly glass. Bird nests clung under the eaves.
They all migrated to the front door. Dad and Dale carried the larger bags. Seth held a smaller duffel bag and a cereal box. The cereal box was his emergency kit. It was full of odds and ends he thought would come in handy for an adventure-rubber bands, a compass, granola bars, coins, a squirt gun, a magnifying glass, plastic handcuffs, string, a whistle.
This is Lena, our housekeeper, Grandpa said. The older woman nodded and gave a little wave. Dale helps me tend the grounds.
Aren't you pretty? Lena said to Kendra. You must be around fourteen. Lena had a faint accent that Kendra could not place.
In October.
An iron knocker hung on the front door, a squinting goblin with a ring in its mouth. The thick door had bulky hinges.
Kendra entered the house. Glossy wood floored the entry hall. A wilting arrangement of flowers rested on a low table in a white ceramic vase. A tall, brass coat rack stood off to one side beside a black bench with a high, carved back. On the wall hung a painting of a fox hunt.
Kendra could see into another room where a huge, embroidered throw rug covered most of the wooden floor.
Like the house itself, the furnishings were antiquated but in good repair. The couches and chairs were mostly of the sort you would expect to see while visiting a historical site.
Dale was heading up the stairs with some of the bags.
Lena excused herself and went to another room.
Your home is beautiful, Mom gushed. I wish we had time for a tour.
Maybe when you get back, Grandpa said.
Thanks for letting the kids stay with you, Dad said.
Our pleasure. Don't let me keep you.
We're on a pretty tight schedule, Dad apologized.
You kids be good and do whatever Grandpa Sorenson tells you, Mom said. She hugged Kendra and Seth.
Kendra felt tears seeping into her eyes. She fought them back. Have a fun cruise.
We'll be back before you know it, Dad said, putting an arm around Kendra and tousling Seth's hair.
Waving, Mom and Dad walked out the door. Kendra went to the doorway and watched them climb into the SUV. Dad honked as they drove off. Kendra fought back tears again as the SUV vanished into the trees.
Mom and Dad were probably laughing, relieved to be off by themselves for the longest vacation of their married lives. She could practically hear their crystal goblets clinking.
And here she stood, abandoned. Kendra closed the door. Seth, oblivious as ever, was examining the intricate pieces of a decorative chess set.
Grandpa stood in the entry hall, watching Seth and looking politely uncomfortable.
Leave the chess pieces alone, Kendra said. They look expensive.
Oh, he's all right, Grandpa said. By the way he said it, Kendra could tell he was relieved to see Seth setting the pieces down. Shall I show you to your room?
They followed Grandpa up the stairs and down a carpeted hall to the foot of a narrow wooden staircase leading up to a white door. Grandpa continued on up the creaking steps.
We don't often have guests, especially children, Grandpa said over his shoulder. I think you'll be most comfortable in the attic.
He opened the door, and they entered after him.
Braced for cobwebs and torture devices, Kendra was relieved to find that the attic was a cheerful playroom.
Spacious, clean, and bright, the long room had a pair of beds, shelves crowded with children's books, freestanding wardrobes, tidy dressers, a unicorn rocking horse, multiple toy chests, and a hen in a cage.