"I can't sell the house?" Lucretia Lewis tried to hide her dismay. If she couldn't sell the historic monstrosity, how would she be able to pay to keep her mother in the nursing home.
"Well, you can sell it. There's just additional funding qualifications for the buyer." The realtor, appropriately named Mr. Sellers, tented his fingertips over a pile of paperwork and began to enumerate the additional hurdles a buyer would have to navigate. "And in this depressed market..." he trailed off with a shrug.
"So, what can I do?" Lucretia knew she was asking the wrong person. Mr. Sellers was a realtor, not a miracle worker.
"Well, you could think about reopening the home to tours or establishing a bed and breakfast."
Those all sounded like great options, only they required something she wasn't sure she could do. She'd need to stay in Merryville, live in Merryville, and face, every day, the empty lot next door.
She shivered, remembering that long ago Halloween night. She'd spent the last ten years trying to forget about two things: the strange disappearance of the house next door and Devon Poe.
Especially Devon Poe.
She pushed through the door with a distinct sense of dissatisfaction. There was only one other option --