By the time Emily first saw the house on Blackwood Lane, the rain had already turned the road into a ribbon of silver.
She sat in the passenger seat of Mark's truck, one hand resting instinctively over the gentle curve of her six-month pregnant belly. Beyond the windshield stood a huge Victorian house beneath a canopy of dark trees.
It was beautiful.
It was also terrifying.
The house had three stories, a narrow tower rising from the western corner, and a wide porch that wrapped around the front like an enormous wooden arm. Most of the exterior paint had peeled away, exposing weathered boards beneath. Several windows were cracked. Ivy climbed almost to the roof.
A sensible person would have kept driving.
Emily smiled.
"This is it."
Mark stared at her.
"You mean this is the house?"
"Yes."
"The one that looks like it hasn't had a human being inside it since the invention of television?"
Emily laughed.
"You promised you wouldn't make fun of it."
"I promised I'd look at it."
He parked beside the curb.
Daisy jumped out before either of them could open the rear door.
The golden retriever mix raced through the wet grass, then stopped beneath the porch. She lifted her head and stared at the house.
Her tail stopped moving.
Emily noticed.
"Daisy?"
The dog looked back at them.
For several seconds she remained perfectly still.
Then she walked toward the front steps.
Emily followed.
The property had been abandoned for years. Everyone in Oakhaven knew that. The previous owner, Elias Thorne, had died decades earlier, leaving behind rumors about secret rooms and strange construction beneath the house.
But Emily didn't care about rumors.
She saw possibilities.
She saw a nursery with sunlight coming through tall windows. She saw Mark working at a desk while their daughter crawled across the floor. She saw Daisy sleeping beside a crib.
Most importantly, she saw a home.
Mark came up behind her.
"We have three months before the baby arrives."
"We can do a lot in three months."
"That's what scares me."
She smiled.
Inside, the house smelled of dust, old wood, and rain.
The first floor was enormous. A staircase curved upward beneath a stained-glass window. There was a dining room, a library, a kitchen with outdated appliances, and a parlor whose fireplace was covered with decades of soot.
The second floor was even more impressive.
At the end of a long hallway stood what would become the nursery.
Emily opened the door.
Sunlight entered through a large bay window and fell across the worn wooden floor.
"Oh," she whispered.
Mark smiled.
"You're already imagining it."
"Of course I am."
Daisy entered behind them.
She sniffed the floor.
Then the walls.
Then she stopped beside the wall separating the nursery from the master bathroom.
Emily watched her.
"Daisy?"
The dog pressed her nose against the plaster.
Nothing happened.
After a few seconds, Daisy walked away.
Emily forgot about it.
They spent the next several weeks renovating.
Mark, an architect, handled the structural plans. Emily chose paint colors and furniture while trying not to overdo things during the pregnancy.