It made sense she’d come to mind now. She’d left an older mansion than this for the chance to be with his grandfather. It wasn’t the money she’d missed but the history. Whenever they’d come across old places like this, she’d reach for Kurt, knowing her touch helped draw his ever-roaming attention.
“Can’t you feel it, Kurt?” she’d ask. “This home’s history is clinging to its walls, to the branches of the old trees shading it, to its windows and doors. Think of the family who lived here when the house was new. And when it was only as old as I am now. What secrets would those windows tell if they could speak?”
He’d never had much of an imagination, but her questions always got his mind churning. He’d picture things like top hats and bustles and gramophones, though as a kid he’d had no clue about the names that went with those images.
Kurt studied the house as Rob finished introductions, and felt the rightness of his decision swirling over his ribs. He’d come here to help the girl. To keep her out of trouble. And while here, he’d keep the dogs at a distance. He needed to. The girl too, for that matter. But he knew even before stepping inside that he’d embrace his stay in this house fully. Nana would want him to, and he owed her more than that.
He’d stayed so many places while on duty the last eight years, seen so many homes with such dramatically different histories. He’d learned how to read the energy of a house. This mansion had a lingering pulse that brought to mind the laughter of small children, the fervent whispers of young lovers, and the quiet wisdom of the elderly.
Kurt was the last in the group to head up the weed-covered stone path to the front porch. He’d picked up on the curious look the pregnant supervisor gave him during Rob’s introductions. She whispered something to Kelsey, who turned red and seemed to have trouble following the conversation, making him wonder if Rob had failed to give her a heads-up that Kurt was coming instead of Tommy. Even though he’d been focusing on the house, Kelsey hadn’t looked his way since. He’d have felt it if she had.
He stepped through the double doors into the foyer and took in the expansive entry, curving staircase, and muted light pouring through the tall windows. He planted his boots on the dusty but rich hardwood floor spanning the first level and felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck and the goose bumps rise on his arms. In a good way. The scent filling his nostrils reminded him of bleach mixed with an old bookstore he’d once walked into before remembering that getting through an entire novel was next to impossible with his level of ADHD.
He wasn’t sure how long the house had sat empty. It had the air of a place that was once a bustling, lively home and had been snoozing, waiting for the dogs and volunteers that would soon be filling it.
As inspiring as the old mansion was, it was also a great space for the dogs. Rather than large, open rooms, there were several smaller rooms so the staff could separate the crates. The still half-furnished rooms had once served as parlors, a music room, a library, a drawing room, and a dining room. Now they’d be temporary holding spaces for a bunch of canines with their fair share of emotional and physical wounds.
Kurt counted four fireplaces on the main floor, two small and two that were imposing. The ceilings were impressively high—twelve feet, he guessed—and there were transoms over the tall windows.
The eyesore of a kitchen stood apart from the rest of the remarkable old home. It looked to have been rehabbed last in the late sixties. Even if the retro look was in, the cabinets, countertops, and appliances were too dated to ever be considered in style. Not that he was one to care about style.
He was taking in the chipped, sky-blue cabinets and matching rust-covered appliances when a massive gray tabby cat pushed in through a pet door in the door leading to the backyard. The cat was huge and had silky, somewhat unkempt fur and the longest tail Kurt had ever seen. The feline eyed the group and hissed, then hopped up onto the counter, twitching its impressive tail.
“This is Mr. Longtail,” Kelsey said, still making eye contact with everyone but Kurt. “He’s the reason this estate was willed to us. His owner didn’t have any family to take the house, and she didn’t want him relocated, so she left the house to us on the condition that we care for him here until he passes away.”
“I wondered why an animal shelter owned a high-maintenance old place like this and had it just sitting empty,” Kurt said.
“We’ve only owned it about eight months,” Kelsey answered, holding his gaze for a second or two. “Once or twice we’ve considered bringing a few overflow animals here, but dividing the staff never made sense. Until now, anyway. Eventually, when Mr. Longtail is gone, the house will be sold, and we’re hoping to use the money to expand on the north side of our building. We’ll name it in Sabrina Raven’s honor.”
“So it’s just been him and this old house for the last eight months?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t like people much, so I’m not sure that he minds. If you leave him alone, he won’t bite.”
“How’s he like dogs?” Rob asked, chuckling.
“Probably not any more than he likes people, but as long as they’re on leashes and can’t hurt him, he’ll be fine.”
“I have a feeling he’ll be putting them all in their place fast enough, with an attitude like he seems to have,” Rob added. “And he still has claws, right?”
“Yes, but he likes to use them on the last of the wallpaper that’s still hanging and not on the mice taking over
