“Our first night in Yatesville,” she told Shuri as she stepped onto the grate at the front door and knocked the snow off her boots. “Here are the rules. No chasing bunny rabbits or voles. Or ghosts. That part’s my job.”
She opened the door and Shuri trotted inside. Chrissie trundled through the door with her overloaded backpack and a suitcase in each hand. Her dog made a quick tour of the space, sniffing vigorously, then flopped into a corner and curled up.
So many people had offered to help her move in—with Ian at the top of that list—but somehow Chrissie had felt she needed to do this on her own. For at least one night, she needed to allow the familiar sounds and smells of this property to soak in. Tomorrow, she’d invite Ian over, and she’d show off the barbecue skills she’d picked up
