That was the first thought that popped into Ashley’s head as he stared up at the house – his house, he reminded himself.
The second thought was, Wow, I can’t believe I’m really doing this.
The house was everything he’d expected and more, a surprise gift left to Ashley in the will of a great-grandfather he hadn’t even known was still alive. His friends had urged him to sell the house and the land, to use the cash to jump-start his art career, but Ashley had wanted to see the gift his predecessor had left him in person before he made any decisions.
And now he knew that he could never sell it.
The grounds were nothing special: an acre of land that was covered in untended landscaping and unruly underbrush in every direction. The house itself, however, was gorgeous, at least to Ashley’s eyes. No one had been able to tell him exactly when it had been built, but he was confident that it was no younger than a hundred years, possibly much older. It had two large towers whose roofs ended in sharp points – one in the back left corner that appeared to be five stories high, and one in the front right corner that was three. The main bulk of the house was a sprawling, two-story beauty with huge rectangular windows that spanned almost the entire length of the rooms within. Stone columns to either side of the double front door held aloft a twenty-foot-long balcony with glass doors leading out to it.
Only the chipping gray paint and the vines growing intrusively up the outer walls detracted from the loveliness of the aging treasure.
The vines would definitely have to be removed.