Free The Brushstroke Legacy by Lauraine Snelling Page A

mean…?”
    So, he thinks we can’t manage? What’s the problem? I know how to set up a tent and cook on a camp stove.
Her tone cooled. “Are there fire restrictions here?”
    “Ah, no. You just have to be careful.”
    “So we could have a fire down on the beach?” Erika crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the car.
    “The beach? Oh, you mean the riverbank. Sure, if you want. Just put it out when you’re finished. We’re not in the park here.” He touched the brim of his hat again. “Well, I’ll be goin’. You need anything, give a holler.”
    Ragni smiled and nodded. He got back in his truck and laid hishat on the seat beside him. She returned his wave and glanced over to see Erika waving as well.
    “Seems real nice, doesn’t he?”
    Erika shrugged. “He’s right. Staying at the motel sounds like a really good idea.”
    Ragni shrugged. “We’ll set up the tent after we tour the house.”
Sure hope this fool tent goes up easier than the last time. Dad said
… She couldn’t allow herself to remember how old the memory was.

“I forgot to ask if we need a key.”
    “Guess we don’t then,” Erika answered.
    The two of them stood in front of the door. What was left of the screen door hung off to the side, first cousins with the drunken gate.
Will the house be fixable, or is it too far gone?
Ragni wondered. After all, she and Erika didn’t have to fix it; she could hire that out. Just clean it enough so they could cook in the kitchen if they wanted to and have a roof over their heads in case of a storm. Her mother would understand if the place was beyond hope—wouldn’t she?
Will I really learn anything about my great-grandmother, or is this all a wild goose chase?
    She glanced to her niece, who looked back at her and shrugged.
Just turn the knob
, she ordered herself. She reached out and grasped the old glass knob, which felt cool in her hand, and turned.
    Nothing happened. She turned it the other way, raising a screech of rust on metal. She jiggled the handle and tried twisting it again. The handle moved, but the innards of the door mechanism failed to follow instructions.
    “Is it locked?”
    Ragni shook her head. “I think it’s rusted shut. I should have brought a can of Coke.”
    “Coke?”
    “I read that Coke will take rust off anything. I tried it once, and it worked.”
Another thing to add to the shopping list: a carton of Coke. Would Diet Coke work as well as regular?
This time when she twisted the knob, she shoved against the door with her shoulder.
    Nothing.
    “You twist and I’ll push,” Erika suggested.
    “Don’t hurt yourself.”
    “Puh-leese.”
    “Okay.” Ragni used both hands on the knob, and Erika threw her weight against the door. It squeaked and squawked in protest, but it moved.
    “Once more.” Erika drew back. “Now.” On this thrust the door creaked inward and a rush of fresh air followed. Erika stepped back and ushered her aunt ahead of her. “You go first. It’s your gig.”
    They stepped into what was evidently the kitchen. A rust-spotted cast-iron cookstove stood against the right-hand wall. Cupboards lined the other walls, and opposite the stove stood a sink under a window. A hand pump at the edge of the sink said there had been running water of sorts at one time. Ancient and curling linoleum still covered part of the floor.
    Erika wrinkled her nose. “Something stinks.”
    “Most likely mold and mildew. And dirt.” Someone or something had broken one of the south-facing windows, which accounted for the bird that flew out when they stepped in.
    “If there’s a bird in here, there might be other, er, wildlife,” Erika said, grimacing.
    “As in mice?” Ragni opened one of the cupboards. “Lots of mice.” She shut the door.
Please, no rats. Mice I can handle, but rats
… She shuddered. “We need mousetraps, that’s for sure.”
    “Can you set a trap?”
    “If I have to. We’ll get some bait too. Good thing I brought a