Lily Goode stared at the beady eyes looking back at her. They were trapped in chubby faces, some happy, some grumpy, all a little creepy. They waited by the large tree in the front lawn, in flower beds that seemed unseasonably in bloom, behind the broken rails on the porch. A couple standing on the front steps like two miniature guards had pointy hats that were taller than their bodies. The female wore a pink dress and held yellow flowers. The male held a sign that read, “We accept.” Several more hats poked out of the overgrown front bushes as if their wearers lay in wait and ready to pounce. They came in a variety of heights and colors.

“Welcome to Lucky Valley, the creepiest place on Earth,” Lily muttered. “Have you ever seen so many garden gnomes in all your life?”

“Don’t look at me. This is your inheritance, not mine,” her younger brother Dante chuckled. His black sweater and dark slacks were stylish and made him stand out in the mountainous countryside. He looked like he belonged in a New York catalog shoot, not standing in front of a dilapidated Victorian house in the middle of nowhere. “Marigold left you the haunted mansion that time forgot.”

Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Marigold Crawford Goode. Their absentee mother. The woman who one day left her three children on the steps of a fire station in Iowa and just disappeared. Lily had been seven at the time.

Since she was the oldest, it had been Lily’s job to protect the other two. Luckily a kind elderly couple had fostered them. Ila and Ronald Whaylen couldn’t have children of their own, so they had become experts at taking in other people’s. However, by the time the Goode children arrived, they were worn from their years of raising troubled kids, and life with them had been more a case of survival than of family fun. When they died, it had been up to Lily to keep the siblings together for two years until she’d turned eighteen and became Dante and Jesse’s legal guardian. After that, Marigold had popped up from time to time, but none of the encounters had made for pleasant memories.

Why had she thought this legacy would be anything other than disappointment? Everything her mother touched had turned to heartache.

The familiar tightening in her chest was brief, and she pushed it down. Those were old wounds best left buried. Nothing good came from digging up the past.

The yellow porch light didn’t help alleviate the unsettling vibe of the old home as it cast shadows over the gnomes in the darkening evening light. The house itself stood trapped in a limbo between care and neglect. It was clear someone had loved it for a very long while, but that time had passed, and decay now attacked the wood siding. Purple and pink paint curled and chipped. It sprinkled the ground like permanent snowflakes. A shutter hung cockeyed on a single hinge.

Trees rose gently over a hill behind the house. She’d seen it as they drove up. Mountains towered to the left, and a valley stretched to the right. The mountain road led to a ghost town, and the valley to a small hamlet that barely passed as a town. It was quiet and out of the way, and if not for this rundown house she couldn’t afford to repair, Lucky Valley would have made a fine place for a new start.

Lily unconsciously touched her jeans pocket where a couple hundred dollars resided. They would need to be frugal and make it last.

As it was, the house was more money pit than living space. She couldn’t afford to renovate. She could barely afford the gas it took to drive halfway across country to get here. She’d most likely be forced to sell the property and hope for enough to cover a down payment on a small place somewhere else.

“Lily? Lily Goode? Is that you? Wait, don’t tell me. I see the shine and I already know the answer. Finally we meet!”

Lily watched a vibrant woman come from the shadows by the side of the house. There were no other cars in the drive and she had assumed no one else was around.

Artificially red hair spiraled from the woman’s head, escaping a bun. Thick, red plastic glasses framed her eyes. She moved with an abundance of energy, made even more apparent by the bright orange and white of her jumpsuit. It was only after she neared that Lily saw a hint of the woman’s age in wrinkles near her eyes. She had the kind of face that could have been a troubled forty or a young sixty.

Lily shared a look with her brother before glancing up at the sky. “How did you get here? Did you... skydive?”

“Isn’t it fabulous?” The woman gestured over her outfit and gave a small wiggle. It looked like something a daredevil who jumped out of a perfectly good airplane might wear. “You are exactly as I envisioned you, sugar bee, minus the mole.” The woman studied Lily’s face. “I was positive you had a mole. The present I brought you will never do now. You’ll have to forgive me as I think of something else.”

“Are you Polly?” Lily recognized the voice of the woman who’d called to tell her about the house. It was annoyingly cheery.

“Call me Aunt Polly.” Polly lifted her arms and lunged forward.

Lily stiffened in surprise and tried to step back, but the woman pinned her arms at her sides with her strong embrace. Strawberry body spray wafted from the woman. Red hair tickled her chin and Lily turned her head to the side. Not exactly known for being a hugger, she wasn’t sure how to handle the unexpected contact.

“I wasn’t aware one of our parents had a sister.” Dante walked closer to the house, out of the woman’s reach. He moved with a practiced refinement he had not been born into. Like all the Goode siblings, he tried to erase the past by not being a product of it. “But if you knew our mother, you’d know we couldn’t always depend on her to tell us the truth of things.”

Polly released Lily and turned to Dante. “Oh, Florus, I would recognize you anywhere.”

“My name is Dante.”

“You look just like your grandfather. He was a tall fellow too.” Polly pointed her finger to encircle his face. “Same disapproving wrinkle in his forehead. You had better be careful or you’ll look like a prune when you’re my age. Nothing ages a person more than sadness, worry, or cheeseburger pickle pie.”

“Cheeseburger pickle pie?” Lily repeated with a grimace. That couldn’t be a real thing.

“Pregnancy cravings. Having children. The ultimate worry that never leaves you,” Polly explained as if her logic should have been evident. “Marigold had that worry. Carried it around for you four kids like a weight.”

“There are three of us,” Lily corrected. She followed her brother to the porch. Dante tested the step with his foot before putting weight on it. The board creaked.

“Right. Jessamine’s not here with you?” Polly asked.

“Jesse had to work.” Lily sighed. Her younger sister had refused to come with them. She wanted nothing to do with Marigold Crawford Goode or any inheritance left to them. Plus, Jesse’s boss never permitted time off.

“I do hope she’ll come soon. I love meeting family. I’m from the Crawford side. Marigold was my…” Polly tilted her head in thought, “twelfth cousin’s sister’s daughter once removed and then unremoved’s mother’s aunt’s granddaughter.”

“Wouldn’t that make her your twelfth cousin’s second cousin,” Lily said, trying to decipher the connection, “which would be your fourteenth cousin? Wait, I’m lost.”

“I never understood the once removed,” Dante said.

“It means the difference of a generation, so Marigold’s first cousin would be our first cousin, once removed,” Lily said. “Don’t ask me how I know that. And don’t ask me what unremoved means. That sounds like a bend in the family tree I don’t want to know about.”

“No, she was once removed from the family coven but then allowed back in,” Polly said.

“Of course she was,” Dante drawled. He turned his back on Polly and made a face at Lily while mouthing the word, “Crazy.”

“So this is the house my mother left me.” Lily changed the subject. “You said nothing about it being part of a ghost town when we spoke on the phone.”

“That’s Old Lucky Valley, sugar bee. We’re in New Lucky Valley.” Polly paused to adjust a gnome hiding in the bushes. “There you go, Winks. All settled in your new sanctuary.”

“You put the gnomes here?” Lily asked in surprise.

“It never hurts to have an army of garden gnomes protecting your property, especially a house as magical as this one, and they did so beg for a change of scenery. The salty Maine air is very hard on their skin.” Polly skipped up the stairs, moving past Dante as she went to the front door. She patted her chest and hips as if looking for keys before shrugging and pushing the door open.

“I don’t know if we should go in there.” Lily looked along the porch. A black cat sat on the edge, staring at her with disturbingly bright eyes. “I haven’t talked to a lawyer about the property and someone could consider this to be trespassing.”

Polly waved her hand. “Trust me, no one is going to complain about a Goode going into the Goode house. There are two cops in this town. Sheriff Franco Tillens, a cowboy who will see the paperwork as a formality and not care, and who is probably out fishing and can’t be bothered. And his deputy, Tegan Herczeg, who has been on the job less than a year.”

“On the job?” Dante mouthed, only to whisper, “Apparently, we have the female Lieutenant Columbo with us.”

“Columbo?” Lily arched a brow. “The 1960s called. They want their television show back.”

“The 1990s called, they want their comeback back,” Dante joked.

“Was that from the ‘90s?” Lily asked. Dante shrugged.

“Come on, sugar bee,” her brother said, lifting his hand to indicate she should go first.

“Thanks, Florus,” Lily answered wryly. Dante grimaced. “I think we should probably confirm with that lawyer to make sure this whole thing is real. I’m not exactly sure Aunt Polly has all her screws tightly in place.”

“No screws,” Polly called from within. “But I have a hammer if you need one, and a wrench Herman found on the beach. He insisted I keep it, and I think I now know why. They’re in the trunk of my car, which is... maybe in Pennsylvania.”

Lily wasn’t sure how the woman had heard them whispering from within the house. Dante pointed at his ear and mouthed, “Hearing aid?”

Lights flickered as Lily crossed the threshold. “You forgot where you left your car?”

A shiver worked over her, and tiny memories from her childhood peeked into her mind from behind a closed door. The house was vaguely familiar, or maybe it simply reminded her of another Victorian from another point in her life. After the Whaylens, they’d moved around quite a bit.

Lily didn’t go past the main foyer. Time had marched its way over the inside, peeling wallpaper and warping wood. Dust coated every surface, and cobwebs hung like strings from the ceiling and chandeliers. Sheets draped over pieces of furniture though she wasn’t sure why since they couldn’t protect from neglect and decay. Already this house needed too much work. Even with her brother’s help, she doubted they could make it livable because if the surface was this bad, who knew what they’d find behind the walls.

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Polly’s voice drifted from another room. “Reminds me of my Queen Anne home in Maine, only flip-flopped around. Your turret is on the opposite side. And the rooms are different. And my house is pink like a decorated cake.”

Lily grabbed her brother’s hand to get his attention. “What was Marigold thinking leaving me this? And why? What are we going to do with—?”

Polly poked her head from around a corner and smiled. “Since the late 1800s, this property has passed from oldest child to oldest child. It’s just the way things used to be done, and when things are done enough times they become a tradition. But don’t worry, Florus, Marigold left you something too.”

“My name is Dante.”

“Right,” Polly said in dismissal.

Dante stepped out of Polly’s view and circled his finger by his ear to indicate he thought the woman was insane. Lily nodded in agreement. Polly was nice, but there was definitely something off about their long-lost relative.

Polly went to the stairs. Lily found herself looking to see if the woman wore a hearing aid. She didn’t see one.

“Wait, are you sure that’s safe?” Lily stopped Polly from going up. “We should probably have someone come out and make sure this structure is sound before we fall through the floor.”

Polly giggled. “You’re a funny one. There’s no reason to fear a little dust and wood groans. A little magic here, a couple of spells there, and poof—all done.”

“I’m more worried about black mold, wood rot, and unwelcome critters,” Lily answered, only to add sarcastically, “but I agree that the only way this place will become livable is if we find a wizard.”

Lily leaned against the stairwell and peered up. It was too dark to see anything upstairs, but there were cracks in the ceiling that gave her reason to pause. Where did one even start on a project like this? Structural engineer? Plumber? Electrician? Mason? Exorcist? Firestarter?

“Do you know one?” Polly walked up the stairs.

“Know one what?” Lily wondered if she had been mumbling her list out loud.

“A wizard.” Polly paused and glanced down at them. She gestured that they were to follow her.

“I don’t think she knows magic isn’t real,” Dante said under his breath as he turned his back on Polly.

“Of course it’s real,” Polly called down. An upstairs light flickered a few times as if to support the woman’s claim. “Look around, don’t you see it glittering on the walls? And in the mountains and valley outside? Like an aurora borealis of magic and sparkles.”

“Never mind,” Dante said. “She’s not crazy. She’s just a hippie.”

He sighed in resignation and followed Polly upstairs. Lily took a deep breath before going after him. The stairs creaked with each step, but at least they didn’t bow under her weight.

Either she’d been in this house before, or the floor plans were extremely common. Somehow she knew there would be a sitting room and three bedrooms on the second floor as well as a bathroom with a clawfoot tub. Sheets hung like wrapping paper over strange, lumpy presents. She mentally started to dismantle the home. She wondered if the Gothic sconce light fixtures would be worth anything, and maybe the crystal doorknobs or some of the wainscoting. A carpenter might want the reclaimed wood, and an antique store should buy anything she could scavenge. If she drove to a city, either Denver or Colorado Springs, she might have better luck getting reasonable prices. Wealthy people were always willing to overpay for these kinds of things and reclaimed items were very trendy at the moment.

“This used to be a boarding house back when people came to visit the mines,” Polly said, leading the way up to the third story. “That’s why there are so many bedrooms.”

Dante held his arms close to his body to protect his black clothes from the dust. Lily was glad she’d worn more comfortable travel clothes, jeans, and a t-shirt.

Lily moved ahead of her brother. The stairwell was smaller between the second and third levels. Faded wallpaper had yellowed at the seams. Tiny pink flowers must have looked cheery once upon a time, but now they were just faint and sad. The musty smell became stronger in the tighter enclosure, a possible mixture of old wallpaper paste and mildew.

The third floor was less familiar and by the time she had glanced in each of the four bedrooms, she convinced herself that she had never been in the house. There were antique beds left uncovered, but the mattresses were gone, another bathroom, and a small locked door.

Polly talked about paint colors and furniture, but Lily only half listened. With each new room, she became convinced that Polly’s enthusiasm for renovation and “keeping the house in the Goode family” was nowhere near Lily’s reality. She couldn’t afford to fix a three-story home in the middle of Lucky Valley, Colorado. With the sort of jobs she could get in a town this small, it would take her five hundred years to earn enough money.

By the time they made it back down to the main floor, Lily was sure she was going to sell. She peeked around the main level. The kitchen cabinets were falling off. The stove was large and cast iron and probably only worked by lighting a wood fire. A library still had books, but she was convinced they’d turn to dust if she touched them. The dining room and living room were beautiful, or at least they had been at one time.

“Would you like to see the basement?” Polly asked, going to the mudroom beside the kitchen and opening a door. “I’m not one for basements myself.”

“Might as well while we’re here,” Dante answered for her. She recognized the disappointment he tried to hide. This house could have been a solid restart for all of them, a chance to get out of rentals and into a family home. Their home. A home no one could take from them. But, like everything connected to their past, this Victorian was broken and sad and a disappointment. It was another family legacy they would have to try to patch up.

Lily and Dante went into the unfinished basement alone as Polly waited upstairs. Dante brushed his hand against the stacked stone foundation. Dust sprinkled to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” he said softly. “You don’t need this headache or this heartache. I know you’re disappointed.”

“It is what it is,” Lily answered. “We knew any inheritance Marigold left us would be a long shot. If no one wants to buy it, we’ll dismantle whatever we can and rent a truck to haul it off. We should be able to sell most of this junk. I doubt anyone will drive out here for it, but if we take it to Denver…” She sighed, not bothering to finish the thought. It felt like a lot of work for a potentially small payoff. Not to mention, if they stayed, they’d lose their jobs back in Spokane, Washington.

“I’m not sure we’ll get much for a leaky water heater.” Dante pointed to a corner.

Lily chuckled. “I doubt we can sell this place with that fuse box next to the broken water heater. I’m pretty sure nothing in this house is up to code. No wonder it’s been in the family so long. They haven’t been able to offload it.”

Shelves lined the walls of a small, dark room. Empty mason jars for canning food held dust instead. In the corner there were a couple of jars that had something inside them as they sat forgotten by whoever had placed them there. Rust had formed on the metal lids.

“Maybe we can sell this place to scientists who study mold and ancient viruses. Or a nuclear testing facility. Let them mushroom cloud it out of existence,” Dante joked. Humor was their way of masking pain. That’s what this house was to them, a symbol of the past, of the pain they worked so hard to ignore. Its decaying walls and chipped paint were representative of the insecurity of childhood, the bleakness of those uncertain days. The leaking water heater and dank basement was the shaky foundation they’d had.

The fact this house came from Marigold, the cause of that pain, only made the emotions of the past invade the present.

“The town will probably have something to say about a mushroom cloud,” Lily said.

“I don’t think the residents of Old Lucky Valley will care,” Dante countered.

“We should go to the hotel before we catch Ebola.” Lily made a face of disgust.

“There are most likely back taxes or liens on it, too. I doubt anyone has been keeping up on the payments.” Dante let her walk up the stairs first. “Make sure you ask the attorney before you sign anything.”

“You make an excellent point.” Lily had seen enough. “I wonder how hard it is to legally refuse an inheritance. I mean, they can’t force me to take it if I don’t want it, can they?”