I stepped out of Grace's car completely in love. The cool Inverness air barely reached me through the helmet I was wearing to keep anyone from recognizing me, while my shoes clicked against the stone pavement. I took off my sunglasses to get a good look at it. In front of me, enclosed by an immaculate black wrought-iron fence, stood an imposing golden sandstone facade that seemed to glow under the Scottish light. Two massive Victorian bay windows flanked a sturdy wooden door painted an elegant olive green, crowned by an antique brass lantern. A gravel path cut through a small, manicured front yard filled with hydrangeas in bloom, guiding the eye directly toward a pristine wooden sign hanging near the entrance that read in clear letters, "PROPERTY FOR SALE."
Grace sighed with resignation. "This—this is exactly what I meant when I said this place is a dream. Houses can't get any more beautiful than this."
An elderly woman pulled up in her car and hurriedly climbed out. She introduced herself, saying, "I'm Sophie, from Sophie's Real Estate. Not very original with the name, I know. You're early—twenty minutes, to be exact. I came to get the house ready for your viewing, just like we discussed on the phone. Come on, head inside. Welcome!"
Grace wanted to explain that she was mistaken, that we hadn't spoken to her and were just looking, but I gave her a subtle signal to play along so we could take the opportunity to go in and see it.
We crossed the threshold, and the warmth of the home immediately enveloped us, starting with the flawless original hardwood floor in the foyer. We looked up, marveling at the soaring ceilings decorated with elegant period moldings that led into a living room flooded with natural light from a massive window. In front of us, a beautiful cast-iron fireplace promised cozy afternoons, and as I took a deep breath of the subtle scent of clean wood and fresh paint, I realized right then that whoever had built this place knew a thing or two about beauty.
Sophie, from Sophie's Real Estate—sorry, but I love saying it like that, it cracks me up, my friend; in my mind, I keep repeating it in her high-pitched voice over and over: Sophie from Sophie's Real Estate... sorry again, I'll stop, but it's just so, so funny, I can't help it—well, she told us, "This beautiful property, strategically located on the highly sought-after Culcabock Avenue in the heart of Crown, offers a generous 155 square meters of living space. It's perfectly laid out for comfortable family living, ideal for children to grow up in a safe, warm environment."
I saw Grace shed a tear when the woman showed us what she called "the room every child chooses when I guide families who come to see it." It was simply wonderful, as if the architect had locked the happiness of innocence right inside those walls.
"Why are you crying?" I asked her, but she proudly just said, "It's nothing, don't worry. The pastry I had for breakfast just didn't sit right..."
I knew she was lying, and I knew exactly why she was crying. This young mother was a protective shield, fighting and resisting second by second, hiding her pain behind the desperation of watching everything she once believed was secure around her—like her husband, or even the right to eat a hot meal every day—vanish into thin air.
I looked at Sophie from Sophie's Real Estate and asked, "How much is this house if I wanted to buy it right this second?"
She replied, "We've turned down offers of 330,000 pounds because the owner wants to get at least 390,000, which is roughly equivalent to half a million dollars. I know it might sound expensive, but there isn't another one like it on the market."
"Hold on a second," I said. "I need to check my phone..."
I nearly fell backward when I realized my accounts held twice as much as they had the last time. What am I supposed to do with all this money? It still strikes me as absurd that they pay me so much just for designing a perfume with my signature and my face on billboards. But it's nothing to complain about; it's just that if you've ever gone hungry, like I have, that kind of money feels a bit ridiculous. Grace is facing those problems right now. I know she hasn't eaten and doesn't have a penny left. I smiled. I know exactly what I'm going to do: buy a little happiness.
I looked at Sophie from Sophie's Real Estate—I seriously can't stop!—and told her the truth.
"We never actually spoke to you on the phone. You were waiting for some other woman—I'm sorry. The great thing is, you showed up at the perfect time, because I'm going to buy this house. I'm buying it right now, this very second."
Sophie's face hardened, and she said, "I knew something was off. The lady I spoke with had a London accent, and you don't. Well, at least you were good practice. Now I have to ask you to leave, because she'll probably be here any minute and... wait, did you say you want to buy it right now?"
When I nodded and repeated, "Right this second," Grace whispered to me, "I hope you're not playing a joke on this woman. She's worked really hard; even I can tell she desperately needs to make a sale."
Sophie overheard her—yes, it was one of those awkward moments—but she straightened her clothes and said proudly, "It's true, I haven't sold a property in a while. And yes, I hope this isn't a joke, because I really need the commission or I'm going to be in trouble."
"It's no joke," I told them. "I'm buying it right now."
Sophie pressed on, adding, "Nobody buys a property like this without thinking twice, and..."
I took off my helmet and introduced myself. "I'm Carmilla Morris. I'm not playing games with you."
She gasped, holding her head. "Oh my God, it can't be. It's you! Here in Inverness. Everyone is talking about you. Right away, Miss Morris—right away, I'll head to my office and get the paperwork ready."
A hush fell over the office of Sophie's Real Estate while she filled out the documents. The owner agreed immediately over the phone, and I wired the money to an account. In just a matter of minutes, the sale was practically complete.
Grace asked me, "Are you moving here? My daughter will be beyond thrilled. The house is gorgeous—congratulations."
I didn't want to answer her yet so I could save the surprise for later, but in that silence, I heard the rumble of her empty stomach. So, looking Grace straight in the eye, I told Sophie, "Put the house in her name. It's a gift for her and Ava to live in."
Grace let out a nervous laugh and asked if it was a joke. When I told her it wasn't... she fainted.
I caught her just before her head hit the floor, and once she came to, she kept repeating over and over, "I don't believe you, this can't be happening."
I explained, trying to be as clear as possible, "I just bought you this house, and I don't want you to worry about anything else. The only thing I ask in return is that if I ever need a place to hide from the press or just want to come visit, you'll be kind enough to welcome me. Now, let's go get something to eat."
While Grace stared at me and touched my face, completely speechless from shock as tears rolled down her cheeks as if I weren't real, Sophie spoke up. "Uh-oh, someone spotted Lucius Longfield nearby, and the national press is already on their way. It would be best if you stay and eat here instead of going out, Carmilla. I'll order the finest dishes Scotland has to offer. Head into the kitchen."
The three of us had lunch. I shared a few anecdotes about the mansion, trying not to overthink things and wanting to distract Grace, who couldn't stop crying and asking, "Did you really do this for us? Is Ava going to lose her mind?"
Lucius sent me an urgent text: "Someone recognized me when I stepped out with Bruce for a second—damn it. Word is spreading everywhere that we're in the area. Get here as soon as you can so we can leave."
I replied: "Got it. So it's no longer a secret that we're here? I'll be there soon, but I have to stop by a school first."
His response was brief: "Why do I get the feeling, Carmilla, that you're about to stir up some trouble? Fine, I trust you. Do your thing and get back so we can leave."
I smiled, looked at Grace, and said, "You know what? Let's finish eating and head over to the school so I can say goodbye to Ava."
That good mother's face lit up completely. Not even the house had made her as happy as knowing her daughter would be thrilled to see me again.
During the drive, I wired Grace enough money to live comfortably for a few years without any worries and to buy everything they needed for the new house. When I asked for her bank account information to make the transfer, I lied; I just told her it was a small gift for the little girl. I didn't want her to faint again when she saw the amount—especially not while she was driving.
When we arrived, a teacher walked out, headed straight for her, and said, "Hi, Grace! I was just about to call you. Ava has been acting very strange all morning, completely silent. I asked her why she kept biting her lips, and she whispered that it was because she had a secret to keep from everyone and was afraid of ruining it and..."
The teacher froze in place the moment she saw me, letting out a gasp. "Good heavens, it's you!"
I waved at her and asked, "Can we go inside? I need to say goodbye to Ava."
Grace walked in first, and the second Ava saw her, she bolted from her desk and threw herself into her mother's arms, her eyes burning with joy. This triggered a wave of teasing from some of her classmates, who mocked her in childish voices, "I'm Ava, and mommy, mommy, I want my mommy."
And then, right at that moment, I walked in and wrapped my arms around her as if she were my absolute best friend in the world...