Unfortunately, it would take some time before I got to the quiet solitude of my aunt's grand estate. I wasn't the only one looking to skip town the night before Thanksgiving and I spent the next hour sitting in a cab waiting for traffic to inch forward towards Whitmere's central station. Once there, I kept my suitcase tight against my leg so no distracted travelers tripped over my bag and fell onto the rails. Fortunately, once my train arrived, I got some air to breathe. Seeing as it was the holidays and the closest thing to a vacation that I'd taken in years, I splurged on the nicest seat on the train. With leg room and an empty seat next to me, I stretched out my sore muscles and allowed the quiet of the train car to soothe my nerves. By the time we had broken past Whitmere's busy city limits, skirted by the sleepy suburbs, and thundered alongside sprawling farms, I had settled completely into a zen state.

Then my phone rang.

"Are you telling me he still won't recognize me as the owner?"

The rising growl in my voice caught a couple of curious glances from the other passengers in the first-class train car. Remembering the courteous quiet they had granted me, I glanced over at them and flashed an apologetic smile before huddling closer to the window and watching the blur of near naked trees disappear behind the foggy condensation of my breath.

"He won't let me in until you have the deed in hand," replied Marshall, one of the finest appraisers in the city and a bit of an expert on old colonial manor homes like my aunt's.

"Surely the lawyer has the keys. I told her I was coming up to Hereford Hills today. I'm on the train as we speak."

"She doesn't... running the BnB... I don't think..." His voice broke up as we glided along the edge of a mountain, whose shadow stood between me and the nearest cell phone tower.

"What?" I asked, pressing a finger in my other ear so that not even the rumble of the train wheels could disturb our conversation. "Reception sucks up here. I haven't seen civilization for the past half hour."

"I said she doesn't have the keys. Mr. Wells needs them for tending to the BnB and he hasn't gotten around to making duplicates. He seems to come up with a new reason every time I've stopped by. I just don't think this is going to happen before Thanksgiving."

"It's mine now though," I said through clenched teeth as I massaged my temple. "I own this building. Why is this so hard for people? I should have the police come and evict him off my property, then we can get you in there."

"You'd have to convince the police you're you too," he added, and I could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "This is a small town, Ms. Creeke. They're loyal to a fault and I don't think they frankly like the fact I'm even here."

"But it's my... Do I need to bring my lawyer into this?" I asked, my voice low with tempered frustration.

"No, I don't think they'll give you any problems or keep you from what's legally yours. It's just... they won't do you any favors until they have to. And, at the end of the day, they can't know it's you until you come in and provide proof of identity. They don't want to hand over the house until they know for sure it's going to the right person. It's a bit extreme, but all completely legal. You just need to get here."

"Well, I'm not in for another hour."

"And the last train home leaves a half hour after that. I'm sorry Ms. Creeke, this just isn't happening today. I'm not willing to get into a dispute that I'm going to ultimately lose. No offense, but you aren't paying me that much."

"I know Marshall. And I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated with all this." I sighed and laid my forehead against the cool window. "They dropped this financial burden in my lap and I don't like having that kind of liability attached to me."

"I understand, but the good news is, at least from the outside, this house is a real beauty. Well maintained, attractive gardens, picturesque locale, and, from what I hear, a thriving client base for any future investor. I may have to come back on a non-business related trip some day."

"Yes, well, I suppose that's good to hear." I took a deep breath and straightened up as I drank down the reality of the situation. "When can I expect you again? I'll be here all weekend so there's no way this caretaker can cause you anymore problems."

"I can be there as soon as Monday, but I'm spending Thanksgiving with my family."

"Right, of course," I said with a shake of my head. "I just forgot with all this going on."

"Well, you picked a lovely place to spend your holiday. If you can stay an extra day, I can be there on Monday."

"Yeah, I can do that. I'll see you then."

"Happy Thanksgiving."

"Thanks, happy Thanksgiving," I mumbled before hanging up the phone.

I leaned back into the chair, my fingers digging into the stiff faux velvet as I took a few centering breaths I matched with the beat of the train's wheels.

"You're going to Hereford Hills?"

I clenched my jaw, biting back the curse upon my tongue. After a few seconds, my muscles loosened, and I swung my head around to find a curvy older woman with tight greying curls and dimpled cheeks, leaning over her arm rest across the aisle.

"Yes."

"Oh, my husband and I love Hereford Hills." To my abject horror, she took this as an invitation to move from her own seat to the once blissfully empty one beside me. "We go several times a year. We live an hour away, at least by train. I'm not going there now. I'm actually going to see my daughter up in Tuppapeake since she just had her first child—a girl."

"Congratulations."

Grandmother always taught me to be polite, no matter how bad your day, because you never know what bridges you might burn. Not that it mattered, since the woman had no intention of having a two-sided conversation.

"She's two months old now and such a handful." She laughed and patted my hand for some reason. "Anyway, we used to hike the trails up round the lake every summer and go camping with the kids, but now we aren't as mobile as we used to be... Still, we've grown to love the place and they always have such fun activities during the holidays. Christmas is the best, but you're a little early for the decorations, though I'm sure some places have them up by now."

"Uh-huh."

I wondered how difficult it would be to slide my ear buds in without her noticing, but before I could make my first attempt, she eventually got to a point.

"I see you have a suitcase. You must be staying up there for the weekend. Do you have family there or are you staying at one of the inns? They have some really lovely bed and breakfasts up there."

I almost answered honestly, but even my grandmother couldn't fault me against a half-truth in this situation.

"I'm staying at the Hound and Sparrow Inn."

"Hound and Sparrow!" she exclaimed with a clap of her hands. "That's Georgina's. It's really the gem of the town. She takes such good care of that place and she pours her heart into everything she does there. You're in for a real treat."

"Doubtful," I said with a pinch of my lips. "Georgina Creeke is dead."

"Oh?" The word was a mortified croak, and she leaned back with a fluttering frown. "You sure?"

"I'm her grandniece, so I'd trust me on this one."

"Oh," she said, a hand going to her mouth as she looked me over. "Your... your eyes do look a bit like Georgina's. And the curve of your lips... Oh my. I'm so sorry."

She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. I debated whether I preferred the unwanted touching or the incessant rambling, but figured it didn't matter since I already played the relation card.

"It's okay," I answered. "I never knew her."

"Still, what a time to lose family. It's always tragic when it happens during the holidays."

"I can tell you from experience it's pretty tragic no matter what time of year it is."

I gave her a thin-lipped smile, and she shrank further into her seat before excusing herself and finding a new seat some rows behind me.

No one ever liked blunt honesty. Grandmother told me it was kinder in the end, even if it hurts in the moment. At some point, that woman would understand.