The Kilternan Legacy Read Online Free Page A

that velvet integrity so much prized. But the house wasn’t at all what I had expected. Then I chided myself: Who was I to look gift houses in the face?
    The front door was reached through a small glassed porch which was shelved with plants, all carefully potted and recently moistened. Someone was tending the place. There was a huge modern padlock on the front door and the older large keyhole. The door paint wasn’t new, but it had been washed scrupulously clean.
    Inside smelled musty. Well, Aunt Irene had been dead nearly two months. In front of us was a small hall with stairs, and doors on either side. To the right was a long sitting room, with fireplace, lace curtains, and the incredible combination of wall papers that I learned was an Irish failing. There wasn’t much furniture: a Victorian two-seater, a modern fireside chair and hassock, a good mahogany table, a small desk, several lamps, an electric heater, and a few worn pieces of carpeting. Everything was immaculate, discounting the fine layer of dust.
    “It’s a pretty room,” said Snow in a dubious tone.
    “It could be.”
    To the left of the front door was a dining room with a nice old round table in its center, the buffet to one side, and a second fireplace with an enclosed stove. We could see beyond to the kitchen; the sink facing the front of the house was at a backbreaking height. Good God, how could any decent cook function? I groaned.
    “Hey!” Snow stopped at the kitchen door in surprise.
    I hurriedly joined her, and beheld a wonder. The sink might not have been altered, but beyond it were beautifully constructed cabinets, Formica-topped, a modern countertop fridge, a lovely gas range, and wall cabinets the length of the kitchen to the back door.
    “Mom? More rooms back here,” called Simon, and Snow and I, still flabbergasted by the splendid kitchen, turned back toward Simon’s beckoning arm.
    One of the two rooms was an office, with an old desk, an ancient file cabinet, several shelves of books (the dull-looking type), and some ledgers.
    A snitch of carpet, well swept but its original motif dimmed by usage, led down the small hall to the solidly barred back door. Hooks and a boot rack held worn raiment of a durable farm type.
    The second room was full of old trunks and boxes, a few discarded bits of harness, and a well-patched saddle and bridle.
    “Maybe the old horse was hers?” asked Snow, her eyes brightening. I knew what she was thinking. She’d always wanted to ride.
    High windows looked out on a back yard, the barn and stable, and the garage, in which the blue trunk of an old car was visible.
    “Let’s go upstairs,” said Snow excitedly. I couldn’t see why she was so eager, but I caught some of her contagion.
    Except for the kitchen, there were evidences of what I’d call pride-poverty, and it distressed me to think that my great-aunt might have been in want during her last years. But that kitchen …
    There were three bedrooms above.
    “Three’s all we need,” cried Snow, bouncing up and down on the left-hand-room bed. “Wow! It’s hard!” She was up and peeking into the little bathroom which fitted in the space over the front hall. “Well, everything we need.” The bathroom’s fittings were old, except for the John. She flushed it experimentally, and a rush of water answered the summons.
    “And indoors,” I said. I’d half expected a privy out back.
    The bedroom over the kitchen-dining room had obviously been my aunt’s: the double bed was old cherry wood, with a beautifully crocheted spread, and the Victorian dresser and chair, the marble-topped, very shallow chests, and a huge ornate wardrobe were good pieces. The wide-planked floor was almost hidden by the one fine rug in the whole house: an Axminster with warm blues and reds. A good-sized electric heater stood against one wall, and Snow saw the electric-blanket attachment and whooped.
    “How incongruous!”
    “How practical!” I said, feeling relieved about