The woman wagged her finger at me. “Don’t raise your voice, young lady. I’ve been watching you and you don’t have so many friends that you can afford to lose another one.”
“You have got to leave,” I said through gritted teeth. “Out, now. I’ll call the cops if you don’t leave this second.”
The woman cackled. “As if those donut-eating buffoons would be able to do anything about it. But fine, fine. Whatever you say, little Miss Bossy.”
“Thank you.” I was positively shaking. The day had been overwhelming to the max, and I had no more words for her. I crossed my arms and waited for her to leave back through the door, but she waved her wrinkled hand at me, winked, and walked straight through the solid wall on the far side of the room.
My hands dropped down to my sides, and my mouth fell open. Okay. Maybe I had, in fact, completely lost my mind.
I took a deep breath in, held it for three seconds… and fainted.
Chapter Three
I woke early the next morning with the cool morning sunlight flooding in through the huge front windows, and for the briefest moment I had no idea where I was. Rubbing my eyes as I yawned, I thought back to the night before. I had fallen asleep at the mahogany dining table while re-reading the document that outlined my strange inheritance. My dining table. My inheritance.
The memory of the batty old lady came flooding back to me and I sat pressing my fingers against my temples. I was just overly stressed and overwhelmed. It had been an emotionally crushing couple of weeks and it had been over ten days since I’d properly meditated or practiced yoga. It had all been a bad dream. My mind needed some focus; that was all.
I picked up the scattered paper and ran my finger along the bold text, which outlined what had been left in my name. Agatha Bentley had left me everything she owned. It was sad, really, that she didn’t have any family or anyone close to her to leave these things to. My gut feeling had been right at the service, she must have been a very lonely old lady. But to leave everything to a stranger she’d only interviewed over the phone? I stared at the date marked clearly on the papers next to her signature. She’d made the will the day I’d accepted her job offer. The day Gerard had told me he was getting engaged to Ivana and he needed me out of the pool house. Yes, the pool house. In Oregon.
I slowly pushed myself up off the high-backed dining chair and stretched my sore muscles before making my way into the main kitchen area, grabbing my backpack from the floor where I had tossed it the night before. I opened the small tub of oatmeal soaked in apple juice that I’d prepared the day before and sniffed it cautiously. I should have refrigerated it, but with all the mess I had not even begun to unpack. I shrugged my shoulders; it would do. I looked around the kitchen for a pot to heat it in.
“Breakfast?” A deep male voice said from behind me.
I shrieked and dropped the tub of cold oatmeal all over my bare feet and the black and white linoleum floor. I looked around frantically for the source of the voice, but there was no one else in the room apart from the huge black cat. And a radio. I exhaled and patted the old style radio, twisting the knobs to ensure it was switched off. Old radio. Dodgy wiring. I could feel the prickle of a sneeze beginning to build as I met the cat’s eyes. They were large and deep blue, and he looked exceptionally unimpressed.
Inhale, count to three, exhale. It’s an old house, it’s an old radio. I narrowed my eyes at the cat before reaching for a roll of paper towel to clean up the mess on the floor. The oatmeal was slimy between my toes and I grimaced as I tried to mop it all up.
“So what are we having now you’ve ruined the oatmeal?”
My eyes shot back to the large black cat. “You did not just speak to me.” I wasn’t sure if it was a question or statement, but the cat and I simply stared at each other for a long moment in silence, challenging one another. Oh, God. It wasn’t the radio. There were voices in my head. That was not a good sign. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand as I finished mopping up the mess and dumped the empty tub into the sink.
“Has she started the breakfast?” Another voice said.
I spun around, my heart hammering in my chest. “Who’s there?”
The tabby cat sauntered into the room and jumped up on the counter beside me. His tail swung back and forth slowly as he watched me. He looked impatient. Well, as impatient as a housecat could manage to look. He blinked up at me as I gripped the edge of the counter. What the hell was going on?
“I don’t know, but it smells like vomit in here and I’m for sure not eating that.” The massive ginger cat padded into the room and flopped himself down on the far side of the dining area, spreading out and stretching in a warm morning sunbeam.
My eyes followed him and my body froze in place. “You’re not talking to me. I’m just hearing things from the stress.”
The tabby cat raised his head from the countertop, his hazel eyes glowing in the daylight. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sugar.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and pressed my hands to my ears. “I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy.”
The tabby cat pounced from the counter and landed on the floor beside the other two cats. “What’s up with this one? She’s pretty, but I’m not sure she’s okay in the head.”
“I think she’s freaking out a bit.” The ginger cat examined me with eyes the color of emeralds. “She’s going to hurt herself if she keeps crushing her skull like that.”
The enormous black cat stalked between the other two cats with a hiss as he stared at me. “Stop!”
The word hit me like a bolt of lightning. I spun in place and sprinted through the kitchen, grabbing the keys from the dining table as I went. I shielded my view with my hands on either side of my face, focused on the door and away from the cats. I fumbled with the keys, my hands shaking, before realizing that I didn’t have to unlock the door from the inside to let myself out. I pulled on the door handle, ran through the door and slammed it behind me. Running down the stairs, my fingers played with multiple keys on the keychain before coming to a stop in front of the entry door to the thrift shop on the ground level of the building. I gripped the handle tightly, closed my eyes, and sucked in a slow breath. I counted to three and let it out slowly.
Everything is fine. I’m not going crazy.
Opening my eyes, I searched for the key that matched the lock, placed it in the keyhole, and turned it. With a small click, the door unlocked, and I pulled it open as I tried to steady myself and stepped inside, locking the door behind me.
The thrift shop was a sight to behold. There were so many items crowding the cavernous space that the walls, floors, and ceiling were all hidden from view. My eyes darted from one side to the other, trying to take it all in. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do with a thrift shop, having never really worked this kind of retail before, but walking through the large space and noticing the way daylight came flooding through the glazed storefront, I realized this could be the perfect spot for a juice bar. My juice bar. My fresh start.
A small grin spread across my face as I told myself that things were finally falling into place. Maybe I’d been letting myself succumb to the pressure a bit—imagining people walking through walls and cats talking wasn’t exactly normal—but sometimes it took a little shaking or jarring of life to finally find what you’re looking for. And looking around the large open space that sat on a fairly busy street near the park, I realized that this was exactly what I was looking for. I could breathe new life into this old building.