Chapter Ten
With the note in hand, Sam arrived at the impressive gate of the Fickle Estate. With rows of windows and a small fountain in the front, the grand mansion dwarfed any of the neighbouring houses. Sam double checked the address, but she was at the right place.
She gathered a breath in preparation and rubbed her hands together before she rang the bell. The pebbled driveway leading up the estate was so long she couldn’t even hear the bell, but only seconds later, the door was swung open by an elderly man. He limped his way to Sam, his walking cane leaving dimples into the pebbles. With a friendly smile, he paused in front of the gate.
“Finnegan Finley Fickle?” Sam asked.
“Yes?” he croaked, the dark mole above his upper lip dancing. A noteworthy feature that she committed to memo
