Kena had been right about the timing. It was 9:41 pm when the train pulled into town.

Over the long hours, Orer had done some thinking, some scrolling on his phone, and some more thinking. Loud snores from across the way told him the newspaper lady was getting her sleepeye and wouldn’t appreciate the blinds being opened again, which meant he was without a book to keep him busy. Not that it really mattered, anyway. He wanted that book to last him as long as possible during the stay in Gregar, even if the time was only buying him an extra afternoon of a good read.

Somehow, his cousin had fallen asleep on the bumpy ride as well. He stuck out a foot and nudged her knee. “Hey, we’re here.”

In the dim lighting of the train’s overhead lights, he saw her outline move with a start.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Quarter to ten. You wanna drive?”

“I’m good.”

He’d had a feeling she would say that. Gram had told them she was leaving a car for them at the station with the verbal instructions, “Keys under the dashboard, Orer dear,” and a map in the passenger’s seat. Orer had forgotten the cell reception wasn’t too good in these parts. Hopefully Kena’s phone was charged enough to give them light for reading directions.

He grabbed his briefcase and duffel from the overhead before making his way off the train to look for the car. Part of him hoped that the ride would be a nice one, but he wouldn’t put it past Gram to type them as irresponsible and send the old sedan.

Kena eventually came off of the train with her purse, a backpack, and two suitcases. Figures. He wasn’t going to ask, but he guessed at least half the stuff she’d brought were hair products and cosmetics.

Sure enough, the classic sedan was waiting for them like a steady steed.

“Let’s hope all your stuff fits,” he called over his shoulder as they made their way. He thought he heard a reply of some sort, but he wasn’t about to discern the grumblings of Kena Raidworth. There were better things to do, such as making sure this car’s battery didn’t die on them halfway to Gram’s.

The car smelled musty, but as he found the keys under the dashboard and turned on the ignition, Orer decided he would gratefully take musty any day if it meant the ride would get them to the destination. The car started with a sputter, and then they were off.

“Help me out, Kena,” he said as they headed north on the main road. “After Pilsen, which road do I need to turn left on?”

“Forse,” she said after a moment’s pause of scanning the paper in front of her. “I think.”

That sounded right, from when he’d called Gram last week and she listed the directions to the house as if he’d remember. Orer floored the gas pedal. This late at night, no one was going to care if he was going fifty-five in a thirty-five.

“You’d think Gram would’ve upgraded,” he finally said once they were out of the town. “I mean, how old is this car anyway? It has to have seen two decades easily.”

“I think it was Gramp’s car,” Kena replied.

Orer was a bit perplexed at the second mention of a man neither of them had met. His mom never talked about him, so he had always just imagined the guy to be some sort of deadbeat that wasn’t worth memorializing in the family. Clearly, Kena had other thoughts. And clearly, this car had seen more than two decades. It was probably nearing on three.

“If Gram really cared that much about him, you’d think she’d find something else of his to treasure,” Orer said, more to himself than anything.

Kena folded the map. “He was a mechanic, Orer. I think I would try to keep the car too, if I were her.”

That was news to him. With the way Sten lived his life and what Orer remembered of the house Gram owned, he would have thought this Gramp had been in the corporate world.

They continued down the road in silence, save for the grumble of the engine. He was going to have a conversation with Gram about getting the Buick checked out once they got there. If she was serious about keeping it, the old thing needed some fixing.

The sign for Forse popped up more quickly than he expected, and he took a sharp turn to make it onto the road.

“Goodness, Orer,” Kena complained once they were straight again. “This car certainly won’t last much longer with the way you drive it.”

“What’s the next road we turn at?” he asked, ignoring the comment.

“Right on Barber in four miles.”

Two turns later, and they were finally on the street leading to Gram’s house. The road had turned from paved to gravel at some point a couple miles back, and the Buick seemed to be getting noisier by the second. But sure enough, Gram’s house appeared in the distance, the headlights catching its tall form and the spray of trees around it.

“It’s just as creepy as I remember,” Kena said with a groan.

Gram had an interesting taste. The house itself held up a parapet surrounding the roof, complete with dips that caused it to look like a medieval fortress. Instead of paving her driveway with asphalt, Gram had also opted to go with bricks. It made for an eclectic mix of the Middle Ages and 1800s. Orer almost half-expected a horse drawn carriage to be waiting for them at the front door.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Do you think it’s unlocked?” he asked. He wasn’t too confident Gram would wake up to open the door for them.

“It better be,” Kena replied. “She only gave us the keys to the car.”

The time was now half-past eleven. They pulled up to the door–sadly, no carriage and no horse were waiting–and began to unload their things. Orer helped lift the suitcases out. They were too heavy to be merely clothes, but he wasn’t about to get in another argument with Kena over her possessions.

There was no doorbell, not surprisingly, so Orer took the brass knocker and rapped the oak.

A light flickered on inside, before the bolt clicked and the door opened.

“Oh dear heavens!” Gram said with a laugh as she peered out at them. “You’ve made it! I was beginning to wonder if you’d come at all.”

“Hi Gram,” Orer said sheepishly, dropping the bags to give her a hug. She kissed him on the check before stepping back to take a good look at him.

“Well, don’t you look ready to start that job at the bank!” she said, admiring his dress shirt, slacks, and leather shoes.

“Thanks, Gram.”

For her part, Gram was in a white nightgown and had curlers in her hair. She looked somewhat like a ghost, Orer thought.

“I see you’ve even brought a briefcase. Not planning to work here, I hope?”

He shook his head with a smile. “Just wanted to pack lighter, is all.”

“Hmm,” she replied with a finger to her lips, before turning to Kena. “And you, dear, well, just look at those earrings!”

The hoops were excessive, to be sure. But in true grandmother fashion, Gram somehow managed to turn a would-be snark into something of an encouragement.

“Thanks, Gram,” Kena said, grinning as they hugged. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, deary.” And then she was ushering them in. “Come, come!”

They pulled all their possessions inside before she shut the door behind them.

“Well, who’d like a late-night snack?” Gram asked.

Orer’s stomach felt suddenly empty at the mention of food.

“A late-night snack sounds great,” Kena said, speaking for the both of them.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Gram exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Just leave your things here, you’ll both be staying upstairs anyway. We can eat in the kitchen before retiring for the night.”

And then she floated down the hall, gown billowing out behind her light steps.

Orer and Kena shared a look. Gram was the same as she had always been, and it was relieving. For the first time since being told he’d have to come to Gregar, Orer was suddenly glad at the opportunity.

When they had made it to the kitchen, they found Gram sitting on a stool at the counter.

“It’s been a while, but I tried to think of your favorites from when you were little and have them here for you as soon as you arrived.”

There were two large bowls in front of her. Orer and Kena leaned over simultaneously to see what was in them.

“No way!” Kena squealed, “Puppy chow? Yours is the best!”

For his part, Orer realized he was staring down at some homemade sour gummies.

“Gram!” he exclaimed. “Thank you!”

Gram’s puppy chow and gummies were unparalleled. They both started eating straight from the bowl, not bothering with the plates Gram had laid out for them.

Kena’s hand darted into the gummy bowl, and Orer slapped it back. “No way, Kena. You have yours. Stay out of my bowl.”

“But they taste so good together! C’mon Or, give me some.”

Somehow she’d thought chopping off the second half of his name was allowed. He’d address that later.

“Fine,” he said, “but don’t get any of that puppy chow powder in my bowl. Peanuts and sour aren’t meant to mix.”

“Disagree,” she told him as she grabbed a handful of gummies and dropped them in her bowl.

Orer knew he was going to regret eating candy on an empty stomach later, but for now, he relished in Gram’s goodness and decided he was willing to risk it.

They had each just finished the bowls when a painful shriek sounded out from somewhere outside.

“What was that?” Orer asked, looking up from the sink where he was washing the bowls.

Gram gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Oh, just some bird. Probably an owl out there hunting. He does that sometimes.”

Orer went back to scrubbing puppy chow off the first bowl. “You probably get a lot of wildlife around here, don’t you?”

“Like bears?” Kena cut in, sounding nervous. Orer decided to keep that in his back pocket. Cousin scared of all things nature–noted.

“Some,” Gram acknowledged, “although the most we’ve ever had in the predatory sense was a pack of wolves some five years back. They haven’t been through since.”

Kena’s eyes went wide as saucers. “What do you do to fend off wolves?” she asked.

“I usually like to take a good piece of uncooked cow liver, strap it to my thigh, and walk all around outside with it,” Gram said with a straight face. “Wards ’em off, it does.”

“Really?” Kena asked, voice shaking.

Orer wasn’t so good at his poker face and lasted all but five seconds. He began to belly laugh, bracing himself against the kitchen sink as he guffawed and imagined an artless, scared-to-death Kena going around with some meat because she took Gram’s advice seriously.

“No Kena, you walk outside with meat and you’re asking for trouble,” he finally managed to get out as he finished wiping down the bowl. “You’ll become the next cow liver they’re chomping on.”

Kena rolled her eyes and got up from her seat next to Gram.

“Sorry I asked,” she said. “I think I’ll go to bed now. It’s already midnight.”

Sure enough, the clock on the stove read 12:04.

“We should all go to bed,” Gram said, one hand on Kena’s arm and her gaze turned to Orer as he wiped his hands. “Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

They followed her out and back to the entryway. Feeling a bit bad about laughing so hard, Orer grabbed Kena’s suitcases and carried them up the banister for her.

“Kena, dear, you’ll be in the East Wing. Orer, you’ll take the North Wing.”

He rolled Kena’s suitcases into the East Wing hallway before following Gram’s pointed gaze toward the North Wing.

“Great,” he said.

“Bedroom is the second door on the left.”

He nodded and made his way in, finding a large king-size bed waiting for him. Not bothering to change clothes, he laid his head down on the pillow and quickly fell asleep.