The Perfect Tenant

Chapter 18

I sit at the kitchen table, a cup of tea growing cold between my hands, as I try to make sense of everything that's happened since we moved to Maple Grove Estates. The pendant weighs heavy in my pocket, but its physical presence grounds me in the moment, temporarily reminding me of what's real.

Zoey is asleep in her room, her dreams hopefully free of sad girls and haunted attics. I envy her innocence, her ability to find joy in the simple things - a new friend at school, a pretty flower in the garden. For her, this place is still an adventure. For me, it's becoming a waking nightmare.

I close my eyes, letting the events of the past weeks play out in my mind like a fragmented film reel. The hidden letters in the guesthouse. The pendant in the toilet cistern. The noises from the attic. The mysterious cat that David insists doesn't exist. And always, always, the feeling of being watched.

My fingers absently trace the outline of the pendant.

"To my love - D."

Such a simple inscription, and yet it's turned everything I thought I knew about the Spencers upside down.

I take a sip of tea, grimacing at its coldness. Today's incident in the main house plays on repeat in my mind. David's reaction to finding me near the attic door was far more than simple anger at a clumsy housekeeper. There was fear in his eyes. Real, visceral fear. What could possibly be in that attic that would scare a man like David Spencer?

My mind is too busy too get proper sleep, cataloging every strange occurrence, every odd comment, every fleeting expression I've witnessed since coming here. By the time dawn breaks, I've made a decision. I need to know more.

The opportunity comes sooner than I expected. The following afternoon, I'm cleaning the master bedroom when I hear Olivia's car pull out of the driveway. David is at work, and Lily is at school. The house is mine.

I work methodically, dusting and straightening, all the while keeping an eye out for anything unusual. It's as I'm finishing up that I notice it - an ornate box on Olivia's nightstand. I've seen it before, of course, but always assumed it was just a jewelry box. Now, though, with suspicion coloring my every thought, it seems to call to me.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm crossing the room, my heart pounding in my chest. The box is even more beautiful up close, its surface inlaid with mother-of-pearl in intricate patterns. My hands shake slightly as I lift the lid.

Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, is a key. Old and ornate, it looks like something from another century. My mind races. What could this key possibly open? The attic door? Some hidden compartment I haven't found yet?

I'm so lost in speculation that I almost miss the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Panic surges through me as I recognize the distinct rumble of Olivia's engine. I quickly close the box, my heart in my throat as I rush to replace it exactly as I found it.

I'm just straightening up, feather duster in hand, when Olivia walks in. She pauses in the doorway, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in the scene.

"Oh, Emma," she says, her voice overly bright. "I didn't expect you to still be here."

I force a smile, praying she can't hear the frantic beating of my heart. "Just finishing up, Mrs. Spencer. How was your outing?"

She waves a hand dismissively, moving further into the room. Her gaze lands on the ornate box, and for a moment, I swear I see a flicker of... something... in her eyes. Fear? Guilt? But it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"That will be all for today, Emma," she says, turning back to me. "Thank you."

I nod and make my escape, my mind whirling. As I walk back to the guesthouse, I find myself taking stock of everything I've experienced since coming here. The strange noises. The secretive behavior. The contradictions and half-truths. And now, a mysterious key that Olivia seems particularly protective of.

I think of David's menacing tone when he found me near the attic. Of Olivia's too-bright smiles and evasive answers. Of the sad girl who haunts Zoey's dreams and maybe, just maybe, the attic of the main house.

The sun is setting over Maple Grove Estates, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns. From here, it all looks so perfect, so peaceful. But I know better now. There's a darkness here, hidden behind the grand facades and polite smiles.

A new thought surfaces. Lily. Sweet, innocent Lily, who should be nothing more than my employer's child, has begun to unsettle me in ways I can't quite explain.

It's in the way she looks at me sometimes, her eyes wide and searching, as if she's trying to memorize every feature of my face. At first, I thought it was just childish curiosity, but there's something more to it. Something that makes me feel exposed, vulnerable.

The other day, as I was tidying up the dining room while Lily worked on her homework at the table, she suddenly stopped writing and stared at me intently. The intensity of her gaze made me pause, duster in hand.

"Is everything okay, Lily?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving my face. "You remind me of someone," she said, her voice soft and thoughtful.

I froze in place. "Oh? Who's that?"

But Lily just shook her head, as if coming out of a trance, and went back to her math problems. The moment stayed with me, though, niggling at the back of my mind like a loose thread I can't help but pull.

Who could I remind her of? And why does the thought fill me with such unease? It's not just about the mystery of the Spencers anymore. Suddenly, I feel like I'm under scrutiny too, as if the very walls of this house are watching me, judging me, trying to uncover... what?

I shake my head, trying to dispel these paranoid thoughts. I'm here to uncover the truth, not to be afraid of a child's curious gaze. But still, every time Lily looks at me with those knowing eyes, I can't help but feel that there's more to her innocent observations than meets the eye.

As I call Zoey in for dinner, I make a silent vow. I will uncover the truth about this place, about the Spencers, about Emily. But I'll be careful. Cautious. I have more than just myself to think about now.

"Come on, sweetie," I say, forcing cheer into my voice as Zoey runs up to me. "Let's get you cleaned up for dinner."

She takes my hand, chattering happily about her day, and I feel a surge of protectiveness so strong it almost takes my breath away.

I've come too far, seen too much, to back down now.