“Thank you.” I smile at him, giddy with affection for my strong, handsome husband. “You’re my hero.”
“My pleasure.” And then he bows. Swoon. I’m loving this honeymoon phase of our marriage.
Ethan pulls off his wool gloves and presses his thumb against the doorbell. We hear the chimes ringing out throughout the house, but after several moments of waiting, no footsteps are coming to the door to let us in.
The other strange thing is that the first floor of the house is completely dark. We both saw that light on upstairs, so we assumed someone was home. We assumed it was Judy. But if Judy were here, she would be downstairs, wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t be upstairs in a random bedroom. The first floor of the house is dead silent.
“Maybe the owners are home,” Ethan says, straining his neck to look up at the towering estate.
“Maybe…”
But there’s another strange thing about all this. There’s no car on the property. Not that I can see anyway. Of course, in a snowstorm, the owner’s car would likely be tucked away in the garage. Judy likely wouldn’t park in the garage, so the fact that her car isn’t visible is evidence that she hasn’t arrived.
Ethan rings the doorbell again while I pull my phone out of my purse. “There are no messages from Judy,” I report. “Although my signal went out at least twenty minutes ago, so it’s possible she’s trying to contact us now.”
He digs his own phone out of his pocket and frowns down at the screen. “I don’t have any signal either.”
We still hear only silence coming from the house. Ethan walks over to the window next to the door and cups his hands over his eyes to see inside. He shakes his head.
“There definitely isn’t anybody on the first floor. I’m not convinced there’s anyone here at all.” He shrugs. “Maybe Judy left the light on upstairs the last time she was here.”
That doesn’t sound like Judy. Judy Teitelbaum is the consummate professional. She’s been showing houses since before I was born, and every place she has shown us has been immaculate. She must scrub them down herself. I’m afraid to even touch anything when I’m in one of the houses for a showing. If I put down a drink without a coaster, I might give Judy a stroke. So no, I don’t think she would leave the house with an upstairs light on. But I’m struggling to come up with another explanation.
Ethan tugs at the collar of his puffy jacket while I hug myself for warmth. “Well, I don’t know what to do. She’s obviously not here.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Great. So what are we supposed to do?”
“Hang on…” His eyes drop to the mat below our feet—the word “welcome” is written in elaborate script, partially obscured by the snow. “Maybe there’s a spare key around here somewhere.”
There isn’t one under the welcome mat—that would be far too obvious—but a more thorough search turns up a key concealed beneath a potted plant near the door. The key is ice cold and slightly damp in my palm.
“So…” I raise my eyebrows at Ethan. “Should we go inside without her? Do you think that’s okay?”
“We better. Who knows how long she’s going to be, and it’s freezing out here.” He throws an arm protectively around my shoulders. “I don’t want you to catch pneumonia.”
He’s right. With no cell phone signal and with the car getting increasingly buried in the snow, we need shelter. At least in the house, we’ll be safe.
I fit the key in the lock and hear the lock turn. I place my hand on the doorknob, which is freezing cold under my palm. I attempt to twist the knob, but the door doesn’t budge. Damn. I look down at the key, still wedged in the lock. “Do you think there’s a deadbolt?”
“Let me try.”
I step back to let Ethan have a go at it. He jiggles the key a bit, then he tries the knob. Nothing. He steps back for a moment, then grips the doorknob again and throws his entire weight against the heavy wooden door. With a loud creaking sound, the door pops open.
“You did it!” My hero. Swoon.
The house is pitch black inside. Ethan flicks a switch on the wall, and my stomach sinks when nothing happens. But then the overhead lights flicker for a moment before coming to life. The power is on, thank God. The lighting is dim—several of the bulbs have probably blown out—but it’s enough to illuminate the expansive living space.
And my jaw drops.
First of all, the living room is huge, and it seems even larger with the open floor plan. After living in a Manhattan apartment for the last several years, almost every house seems enormous to us. But this one is museum-level enormous. It’s airport-level enormous. And as large as the square footage is, it seems so much larger because of the high ceilings.