Bloodlines

Gabi Schafer stepped out of the shuttle and into the main area of the Sacramento International Airport, feeling grubby and tired like always after a flight. Nerves flickered in her chest as she followed the flood of other passengers. It had been 14 years since she had last been in California. Most of her life.

She scanned faces while riding the escalator down to the luggage carousels, hoping she wouldn’t miss Mr. Jillespie. Just as she reached the bottom, she saw him wave from several feet away. Despite his nice slacks and shoes, the man looked nothing like a lawyer, with wrinkles in his baby-blue dress shirt and greying hair feathered out from his head like a crested bird.

It was hard to hide the relief from her voice as they shook hands. “Thanks so much for meeting me here. A visit to the airport probably isn’t in your typical routine.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re being charged by the minute.” He laughed so loud she saw into the back of his throat. “I’m pulling your leg. Your great-aunt was a fantastic client and this isn’t too much of a stretch from my duties as the executor of her estate.”

From there, he moved the conversation into innocuous topics like the weather and how the flight went while she collected her luggage. Little had to be said from a lawyer’s point of view; they’d already had several calls about the situation and what Gabi could expect.

“That’s not much,” he said, surveying her purple suitcase and overhead bag. “Are you shipping the rest of your belongings?”

“Not right now. I don’t know how much room I’ll have.”

“It’s a Victorian-era ranch house. You should be fine.”

She nodded, squinting slightly in the glare of the sun as they walked outside. The aridity to the air shocked her lungs, drying them out with each breath. Since Mr. Jillespie had brought up the house, she decided to ask a related question that had bothered her since his first call about the situation. “Isn’t all this unusual? The terms of the will seem so detailed.”

“Your great-aunt always knew exactly what she wanted. Normality never entered the equation.” Mr. Jillespie’s words sounded fond, as if he were more like family to Lieselotte Schafer than Gabi herself had ever been. Which, she had to admit, was probably true.

As they continued past rows of cars, their path making it clear that Mr. Jillespie had been stuck with a space at the very edge of the parking lot, he added, “But as I explained to your cousins, the conditions are limited to the span of a year. It would take much longer than that to contest the will.”

Gabi nodded. The terms hadn’t been hard to understand. She and her two cousins were the only heirs to Lieselotte Schafer’s estate, which was made up of the historic family mansion, its remaining fields, and a lot of money. Once she, Michelle, and Heather lived together in that house for a year, the money would be divided equally among them and they could decide what to do with the property. If any of them left before the year was up, the other two split her share of the inheritance. It seemed straightforward enough—just odd.

“Did she explain why she wanted it this way?”

Mr. Jillespie’s unassuming black sedan chirped as he unlocked it. Since he gestured at her to get in the car while he put away the luggage, she had to wait for an answer until they were driving out of the parking lot. “Not to me. Then again, I didn’t need to know. She was so meticulous about the provisions of the will that I’m sure she left an explanation for you three girls somewhere in the house. Lotte wasn’t the type to overlook anything.”

Gabi nodded and turned her attention to their surroundings as the car reached the highway. Crops and fields were all a pretty green despite it being the first week of June. She remembered wild grass out here turned yellow as straw in summer. She also recognized some of the highway exit names but not where they led to. It didn’t feel like she was coming home, but this had been her decision and she’d already decided to make the best of it. Besides, it got her far away from life in San Marcos, and that was the most important thing right now.

She didn’t realize the air between them had fallen silent until Mr. Jillespie spoke up again, filling the car with his cheerful voice. “Bishop’s Point isn’t far. A 30-minute drive from Sacramento. It’s also 30 minutes from Yuba City, which is at the base of the Sutter Buttes. Smallest mountain range in the world!” He roared out another laugh as if he’d told a joke instead of a fact and added, “You probably already knew that. I think Lotte told me you lived here until you were eight.”

“Seven,” replied Gabi. She appreciated that he hadn’t brought up the reason why she’d left, and put some extra friendliness in her voice as she added, “But I don’t remember much, and I rarely went to Great-aunt Lotte’s home.”

“I’m sure your cousins will help with that. They’re also moving in today.”

The words made Gabi’s stomach flip, and she couldn’t say why. Excitement, maybe, over the chance to start fresh with relatives she barely knew. She thought back to the blurry memories of her final Christmas with her father’s side of the family. Heather was easy to remember, wearing fishnets and a bored expression throughout most of the day. Gabi thought she recalled someone scolding her for all her tattoos. Michelle remained vague, just one adult face among many, speaking in German whenever she talked to Lotte. The Schafers were all very proud of maintaining their family roots, language and all.

Eventually, Mr. Jillespie left the highway for a country road that had orchards and fields on either side. Some of the trees were in flower, and Gabi was tempted to roll down her window and see if she could smell them. A dusty sign announced their entry into town. Bishop’s Point, population 393.

Gabi bit back a sigh of relief. A small, unobtrusive life was just what she wanted. “These are pretty houses.”

And they were—a mix of Victorian mansions that looked as grand in their age as antique tea cups and modest, unassuming houses with front yards displaying flower pots and American flags. Passing them by gave her an odd sense of going back in time, each year peeling away like old paint until driving along streets felt like slipping into distant memories, clocks frozen and radios played on loop.

It was a whimsical thought, and not the kind Gabi was used to. She shook her head slightly and blamed it on jet lag.

After a few more blocks of houses and yards, the trees thickened again, and she realized they were already back among fields. Mr. Jillespie’s next words confirmed her suspicions. “Your great-aunt’s house is about six miles past the main town. Your neighbors will be mostly walnut orchards. And I’m afraid Bishop’s Point hasn’t grown like other cities in the county since it’s surrounded by farmland. There’s a grocery store, a gas station, and a bait shop. If you need anything else, you’ll have to drive south to Cherryville.”

“That’s fine,” said Gabi, as fields thickened into oak trees and thinned again into the occasional orchard or house with grassy lawn. The mountains to the west looked soft as a watercolor painting, layers of rounded earth disappearing behind each other.

When Mr. Jillespie’s car followed a long, wide bend in the road, he said, “It’s just past this curve.”

Gabi leaned against her seatbelt, eager for the first glimpse of her great-aunt’s house. She wasn’t disappointed. The mansion was a perfect example of Victorian architecture. It looked narrow only because it stood three storeys high, with stone steps leading up to a sizable porch decorated with white columns. The windows were tall and thin, and the gingerbread trim still appeared impressively intricate despite patches of peeling paint. The yard was dusty with dry earth instead of grass, but black walnut trees and even a few palms offered privacy from traffic on the road.

It was impossible to see how far the back property extended, but it didn’t matter. This was her home for the next year. For the first time, she would have something of her own to look after. The fact was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. “It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve seen a more beautiful place.”

“Lotte was devoted to it,” said Mr. Jillespie, pulling onto decomposed granite that quickly turned into a driveway overrun with weeds. Gabi could see where the cracked cement circled around to the back, but her focus returned to the lawyer as he added, “She wouldn’t sell and buy something smaller even after she turned 100. She was healthy as a horse all her life, but this is a big house, and the upper storeys and basement probably need some love and care. It should be perfect for you girls, though.”

Then he veered off to the side to park, seeking the shade of a scrubby pine. “Well. Here we are. Looks like you’re the first heir to arrive.”

Gabi nodded and got out to get her suitcase from the backseat. “Thanks so much for the drive.”

“Not at all.” Then his phone rang, and he remained in the car to answer it.

Gabi took it as an opportunity to walk closer to the mansion. The columns looked impossibly tall. The shadowy porch breathed cool air, surprisingly damp and earthy as though she would step into a root cellar instead of a furnished house if she went inside. Before she even set foot on the first stair, the porch floorboards creaked—a slow, annoyed sound, like an old beast grumbling in its sleep.

A shiver ran down her spine. Her feet suddenly seemed glued to the ground. The yard somehow felt safer, with firm earth beneath her and bright sunshine above. Once she went in, she would be surrounded by wood and glass that had seen generations of Schafers come and go. Gabi had never decided whether ghosts were real or not, but as she hesitated there at the edge of the shadow cast by the mansion, there was a very clear sensation of being studied. Inspected carefully, as if the house could not only perceive her but track every beat of blood pulsing through her veins.

Her mouth grew dry, and she wasn’t sure she could blame the arid atmosphere for it. Her skin prickled next, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink as she stared at the iron knocker waiting on the door, a gnarled old face with pockets of shadows for eyes that nevertheless seemed to be staring at her, into her.

The whine of an electric car slowing to a stop freed her from her hypnotic state. A green Tesla with a rideshare sticker parked next to Mr. Jillespie, and a woman was climbed out of the backseat. She had magenta ombre hair and wore a black, knee-length dress with fishnets. Even though Gabi couldn’t see her face yet, she remembered all the colorful tattoos on her arms. It had to be… “Heather?”

“Who’s asking?” Her cousin straightened up with a suitcase shaped like a mini coffin, her movements stiff from a corset laced as tightly as possible to give her an hourglass shape. Her eyes widened behind oversized glasses. “You can’t be Gabi.”

Gabi nodded excitedly, tempted to run over and give her a hug. “It’s been so long!”

Then another car pulled into the driveway, a red Mazda that bumped and dipped with the uneven ground so badly that its nose scraped the cement several times. It had barely jerked to a stop before the brunette woman behind the wheel jumped out to check the car for damage, hissing profanities before any other words grew clear. “God, I hate these country roads. We’re in a state with a larger GDP than most countries. Why the hell isn’t everything paved?”

Just as Gabi realized the new woman must be her eldest cousin, Heather pushed her aside to get to the front steps. “Hurry up before she picks the best bedroom.”

“What?” said Gabi.

Heather had already disappeared through the doorway, but the other woman now approached—older, taller, and in an exquisitely tailored navy pantsuit matched with a white turtleneck and high heels. Her face had the smooth features of great cosmetic surgery, but Gabi still recognized her and smiled again. “Michelle?”

“Look at you! All grown up.” Michelle crushed her into a hug and pulled away just as quickly. “We thought you’d been stolen from us forever. Tante Lotte was always so upset about it. Do you remember what ’tante’ means? It’s the same as calling her Aunt Lotte. Of course, she was our great-aunt, but certain terms are more convenient. You’re probably too young to realize that yet.”

Gabi nodded. “I remember some things from childhood, but I—”

“Hang on, I see the real estate agent has arrived. Time to let the big girls talk.” Michelle patted her shoulder and headed for the bright pink Mercedes parking behind Mr. Jillespie’s sedan. Mr. Jillespie himself had also gotten out of his car, phone back in his pocket and flashing a smile that showed all his teeth as he greeted Michelle with the same boisterous tone he had used on Gabi.

Since everyone else seemed involved in their own business, Gabi piled her luggage on the porch, making sure there was still a clear path to the door. Then she began exploring everything behind the house. It grew obvious that the property had once been much larger and used for farming. Rusted, broken machinery disintegrated among weeds. Patches of grass alternated with the crunch of gravel beneath her shoes. Toolsheds and even the remnants of a gazebo slumped toward the ground, picked apart by years of weather and generations of rats. The only structure that looked clean and cared-for was a chicken coop.

Mr. Jillespsie hadn’t exaggerated about the isolation; Gabi saw plenty of orchards and fields all around, but no houses. She was just about to circle back around to the front when movement flickered out of the corner of her eye. A fat, speckled hen emerged from the shade of a gnarled oak, followed by two white ones. They scratched and pecked at the ground at a brisk pace, ignoring Gabi. That explained the state of the coop, then. They must have been Tante Lotte’s.

Gabi slowly followed the hens as they checked the cracks in the long cement pathway at the side of the house, searching on her phone for how to care for chickens. Or at least, trying to. It seemed impossible to get reception. Dimly, she grew aware of another engine rumbling to a stop somewhere in the front, as well as voices inside the house echoing throughout what sounded like the second or third floor, but her focus remained on the chickens, who ran past her with a few scolding cackles to return to the backyard, settling in the shade of an ancient tractor.

She was about to leave them be and search for signs of whether the property had city water lines or its own well when she noticed a nearby tree stump with something strange on it. The stump was about a foot in diameter and weathered grey. With the way tall grass surrounded it, it looked less like a cut tree and more like a growth emerging from the ground. A step closer was all she needed to recognize what had been placed on it like an offering: bones. Cracked pieces of a femur, picked clean and bleached to a pristine white beneath the glare of the sun, and what looked like the spine and ribcage of something much smaller, held together by a few tough bits of sinew and recent enough to be grimy and yellow.

Revulsion rippled through Gabi. For all that she had seen plenty of deer and duck carcasses from relatives who were hunters, these remains truly did seem to be placed on display. More than that, a close inspection revealed tiny teeth marks. She could imagine rats gnawing on roadkill but not pulling them up onto the stump. Who would do that? It was hard to think of a benign answer, and harder to ignore the way her uncertainty wanted to harden into outright worry. She would be safe here, wouldn’t she?

Dog tags jingled somewhere behind her, and she quickly turned toward the sound, relieved over no longer being alone. A huge, sable German Shepherd appeared around the side of the house, ears already pricked toward Gabi.

A man’s voice called out two commands. “Hier. Fuss.”

The dog circled back as his owner entered the backyard as well, taking a close position by the man’s left leg and keeping pace while they both approached Gabi.

She immediately wished she hadn’t worn her rattiest jeans and sneakers for the flight, or that her hair wasn’t in a sloppy ponytail. Dark sunglasses hid the man’s eyes, but with his slick yet understated haircut and what was visible of his face, he was the best-looking guy she had seen since… Well, she didn’t want to think about Noah right now.

Definitely older than her, though she didn’t see any grey in his dark brown hair. When he spoke, his voice sounded deep and direct. “How’s it going?”

“Good, thanks,” replied Gabi, still struck with how he looked as confident and muscled as his dog. It was hard not to sound distracted, because she was. His features grew slightly grim at the mouth and jaw, and she wondered what in his past had caused that. He wore a flannel over his shirt despite the warm morning, and his jeans and boots were both dusted with the powdery earth that seemed to be everywhere in the area. The ordinary clothes belied his awareness of his surroundings and how his movements were both efficient and alert—he walked like someone used to wearing a uniform.

When they were only a few feet apart, he gave the German Shepherd another command. “Sitz.”

The dog sat with precision, alert yet relaxed enough to pant. Up close, he was even more impressive. They both were.

“You’re speaking German,” said Gabi, aware it was what law enforcement often used with their dogs. “Are you a K-9 officer?”

“Former Fish and Wildlife. When I left, I got to take Duke with me.” He removed his sunglasses, which made him appear much less remote. His eyes were a clear, vivid blue. “Are you one of Lotte Schafer’s relatives?”

“Yes.” She held out a hand, determined to act casual. “I’m Gabi Schafer. Well, Gabriela, but no one uses my full name.”

In response, he grinned. It was the kind of smile that made his face come alive. Her heart flipped even before he shook her hand. His fingers felt warm and rough. “Guess we have something in common. I’m Gabriel. Gabriel King.”

“Oh.” She hazarded a guess. “Gabe?”

His grin widened. “Never. Just Gabriel.”

Her next breath grew shallow as she laughed with him, but for a moment, she felt normal again. At ease with talking to a man.

As their hands broke apart, he added in a more serious tone, “I’m sorry for your loss. Miss Schafer was a pillar of the community.”

“Thank you. I wish I’d known her better. Were you friends?”

“Neighbors. I live about a quarter-mile down the road. It’s the house with all the oaks in the yard. I came over to check on the chickens.”

When he glanced toward their feet, Gabi looked, too, and saw that the hens had returned, searching the ground within yards of Duke. The dog barely took notice, instead listening to all the activity inside the house or looking up at Gabriel. The animals were clearly used to each other.

“Are they hard to care for?” said Gabi. She had grown up with cats and dogs, and had ridden horses a few times, but had never looked after any livestock. Still, she liked the idea of having them around.

“I can show you everything in half an hour,” he reassured her. “Hope you like eggs.”

Before she could answer, a window above them burst open, scattering chips of paint. As the hens scurried away again, Michelle leaned out and called down, “Are you talking about those chickens? I’ll be right there. I don’t want to miss anything. Gabi, go pick a room. Everyone is trying not to trip over your suitcase on the porch.”

“I will, but I wanted to hear how to care for—” The rest of Gabi’s words dwindled to nothing when the window slammed shut. She wasn’t sure if she felt embarrassed for herself or for her cousin as she faced Gabriel again.

He erased the awkwardness by sending Duke off to the backyard with a short command. As the dog began searching around the run connected to the chicken coop, Gabriel nodded at her to follow him. “I’ll show you right now and then your cousins when they’re ready. I don’t mind repeating myself, and it gives Duke time to patrol.”

“What’s he looking for?”

“Any coyote scent around the run. Sometimes, they’ll try to dig under it to get to the coop.”

Gabi felt torn between thanking him and teasing that he obviously didn’t mind taking control of things. It felt too forward, though, so she only listened as he explained what the hens would need daily. That urge to tease surprised her, and so did the fact that she kept focusing on him as a man instead of a helpful neighbor. Maybe the move had already helped her forget about the past.

When Michelle walked out the back door, she didn’t seem happy to find her still outside with Gabriel. Gabi decided to push her luck and said to him, “Thanks. I think I’ll remember everything. I did have one more question, but it’s unrelated to chickens. My phone hasn’t been able to get a signal out here.”

“The whole town is like that. It’s always been a problem,” he replied, scratching the thick fur between Duke’s shoulder blades. The dog panted as his amber eyes studied Gabi with clear intelligence. His owner looked at her with equal care, as if debating with himself whether to tell her more.

Michelle ruined the moment by joining them. “What’s a problem?”

Gabi brandished her phone at her cousin. “No reception.”

“I noticed that. And it looks like Tante Lotte never had the internet installed. We’ll have to, of course, and then find a way to get a better signal for our phones. The realtor told me there’s a landline, so at least we’re not completely helpless.”

Then Michelle’s attention zeroed in on Gabriel. “Are you our new neighbor, Gabriel King? Liz was just telling me about you.”

“Probably how stubborn I am,” said Gabriel, with a smile. “She’s been trying to get me to sell for months.”

Just as Gabi realized “Liz” must be the realtor who had shown up, Michelle pulled out her own phone. “Do you mind giving me your number? It’d be nice to know who to call if we have any questions about living out here. I promise I won’t abuse it.”

Before he could answer, Michelle turned and made a shooing motion at Gabi as if she were a chicken herself. “Go pick a room. There’s no use standing around. Everything will be chaos for the rest of the day.”

There was no graceful way to refuse, and it seemed like Michelle itched to take over the conversation even if she stayed, so she glanced at Gabriel and said, “It was nice meeting you and Duke.”

His smile warmed a little. “Likewise, Gabi.”

As she left for the front of the house, she found herself twisting fingers into the ends of her ponytail, something she hadn’t done since senior year at high school while under the attention of a crush. Even Heather pointedly stepping around her suitcase with a scowl didn’t chase away the feeling. Gabriel was being a nice neighbor and nothing more, and she understood that. But it felt good to be friendly without any problems coming out of it.

Still in a daze from meeting him, she didn’t even think twice about going inside despite her earlier unease. The interior offered hints of the mansion’s former luxury: Persian rugs, intricately carved banisters, and stained glass windows. The switchback staircase to the upper storeys waited on her immediate left, and the small door built into its side had been painted red, a startling contrast to the hardwood floor and green wallpaper of the foyer; the way to the basement, she supposed.

After realizing all the rooms were in a similar state of squeaky floorboards and ragged fabric, she picked the single room that made up the third storey as hers, mainly for the beautiful views that each wall offered with its multiple windows. Sheets covered most of the furniture, but the upholstery wasn’t as threadbare as she’d feared, and there weren’t any signs of mice in the closet, dresser, or bed. Just a lot of dust bunnies and daddy long legs, which she didn’t have the heart to shoo away.

One of the windows overlooked the driveway, and she glanced out in time to catch Gabriel getting back in his truck while Duke waited in the passenger seat. His expression briefly tightened when he grabbed his left leg behind the knee to get it to bend properly while climbing in. The Shepherd nuzzled over his arm to lick at his face, and he petted the dog before starting the engine.

Gabi thoughtfully watched them leave. From the emptiness of the driveway, it seemed the lawyer had also gone.

“Well, hi.” A female voice drifted over from the doorway.

Gabi turned and found herself facing the realtor. Up close, her teeth were shockingly white, and her short bob was some color between blonde and grey. Her eyes sized up Gabi with the sort of appraisal she usually saw at stock shows.

“You must be the baby of the family. My goodness, can you even make legal decisions yet?”

Gabi kept her reply cheerful. “I’ll be 22 this September.”

“Excellent. I’m Liz Zapata, a local agent serving all nearby counties. Yolo, Ore, Sutter, and even a little bit of Yuba. I was telling your cousins about the work needed to turn this house into a stunning sale. It shouldn’t be that daunting with a year’s worth of time on your side.”

“Then they both want to sell?” said Gabi.

“Very clearly. Do you?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. It wasn’t even two weeks ago that I found out my great-aunt remembered me.”

Another blinding smile. “You have to think about your future. Especially with how unpredictable the market can be.”

Gabi didn’t exactly disagree, but she also wanted the plain facts before deciding anything. “How did you know about our situation with the house?”

“Dave Jillespie and I go back a long way. Since he’s the executor of the estate, he contacted me about the possibility that you three might decide to sell the house.”

When Gabi nodded, the realtor leaned forward, expression turning conspiratorial. “If you want my advice, take advantage of being able to sit back and enjoy your great-aunt’s generosity. You won’t often find yourself in a situation where others do all the work.”

“You’re saying that I don’t have to think.”

“Exactly! Here’s my card.”

Gabi took it and thanked her but remained doubtful long after the woman left. Misreading a situation had led to horrible consequences before, and she wanted to do better with this chance at a new life, much better. If the house now belonged to her, at least partially, then maybe the rest of the day should be spent exploring it and taking note of any issues. It seemed like the smart thing to do. It seemed like the safest thing to do.