The House on Tradd Street Read Online Free PDF

is a mistake. He wasn’t in his right mind or something.”
    Mr. Drayton leaned toward me. “No, there’s no mistake. I personally oversaw the writing of Mr. Vanderhorst’s will shortly after you left him Thursday morning. He was perfectly sane.” He glanced over at his son for a moment before concentrating again on me. “Well, except for the fact that he said that his mother would approve. And, to be honest, I fully expected to visit the following week to get him to change his mind. As I mentioned, all of this is highly irregular.”
    I rubbed my temple, which had begun to throb. “His relatives will contest the will.”
    “He doesn’t have any.”
    “Find some.”
    The two Draytons stood in unison. Jonathan stepped forward. “Ms. Middleton, I know this is a bit of a shock—it was to us, too—but Mr. Vanderhorst was adamant that his property should go to you.”
    Mr. Drayton slid a sealed envelope across the table towards me. I saw my name scribbled across the top complete with my middle initial “P”—just like on the business card I’d given Mr. Vanderhorst.
    “Ms. Middleton, Mr. Vanderhorst suspected you might need some sort of explanation, so he gave me this letter for you to be handed over in the event of his death. I just didn’t expect for it to happen so soon.”
    I stared at the letter for a long time before sliding it toward me across the polished surface of the mahogany table and picking it up. I held it in my hands, feeling the heavy crisp linen stationery, but didn’t open it.
    Looking up at the two men, I said, “I don’t want this. There’s nothing in this letter that could possibly change my mind.”
    “Melanie—may I call you Melanie? You’re just in a state of shock right now. Once you have a chance to examine the house more closely, you’ll realize what a treasure you’ve inherited.” Mr. Drayton gave me what probably passed for a warm smile to him.
    “Mr. Drayton, I’ve seen the house. It’s a dump. I’d just as soon send in a wrecking ball and end its misery.”
    Mr. Drayton looked alarmed. “Oh, no, Ms. Middleton. You can’t do that. The entire historic district is protected.”
    “But it’s barely habitable! I’d have to start panhandling in the hopes of not starving to death after I’ve paid to make the house safe enough to sell.”
    Mr. Drayton cleared his throat. “Actually, money shouldn’t be an issue. Mr. Vanderhorst is, er, was a wealthy man. Not having any family, he had no use for it except to save it.”
    I felt a glimmer of hope. “So I can just abandon it until it falls down and move somewhere else to live in luxury?”
    Mr. Drayton cleared his throat again, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Um, not exactly. You see, Mr. Vanderhorst established a trust to ensure that money is spent on the restoration of the house. You will, of course, be able to draw an amount for living expenses as long as you live in the house. The exact amount will be left to the discretion of the trustee. The trust will remain in effect until your death.”
    I blinked hard, trying to stop my mind from spinning. “How about selling it as is? I’d have to list it way under market because of its condition, but there are lots of crazy people out there who would jump at the chance.”
    “Actually, you could,” said Mr. Drayton. “Except a stipulation in the will states that before you’re allowed to put it on the market, you have to have lived in the house for the period of one year. Ditto for all the furnishings inside the house.”
    I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “So, what you’re basically saying is that I’m screwed.” I stared down at the envelope in my hand and thought hard. “Could I just refuse it all and walk away?”
    “I suppose that’s your prerogative.” Mr. Drayton leaned forward and tapped the envelope in my hand. “But read this before you make any decisions. I don’t think Mr. Vanderhorst made his decision lightly. This house was the child he