The Turin Manor

I stared up at the massive house, still trying to comprehend the factors that brought me here. Five days ago, I was apartment hunting for something less than a grand a month. Now I was living in a three story manor on the outskirts of a town two thousand miles away. I sighed to my self muttering under my breath, "Fucking inheritance, what am I going to do with this?"

I used the key that Catherine, the housekeeper, had given me to open the doors to the manor. Stepping into the foyer, I was shocked by what lay before me. The inside of the manor held a stark contrast to the old brooding exterior. At my left, the glass double doors that lead to the study hinted at an old oak table surrounded by leather office chairs that looked like they'd been taken off the set of a 1950's mobster movie. I looked to the dining room to find similar looks. The furniture was half a century old, but the feeling was of modern comfort. As I wandered into the kitchen area, my mind began to wander. The house was beautiful, but I was struggling to figure out what to do with the house. I wandered into the breakfast nook at the rear of the house. Out the surprisingly modern, double pane windows, I could see the rear of the property. A 25 yard pool sat in the middle of a well landscaped yard that gently falls away to the south, leading into farmland that, according to Wane, the groundskeeper, is owned by the property, but leased to a local farm for a portion of its crops.

Wane and Catherine were an old married couple who lived in a small cottage near the front of the property. The cottage was supposedly built and maintained by my Great-Grandfather, and the couple had been working for him since Wane's father, my Great-grandfather's godson, had taken ill. It was apparently a tradition now, for the Baskett family to work for my family.

My mind came back to focus as I picked up the binder that was sitting on the table. I opened to the first page, and found a note from a family member I never knew I had, let alone met. The letter was typed, and the paper was new, meaning that someone must have transcribed this letter before he died, and added it to this book upon his request, I began to read the note as curiosity got to me.

"Dear Child,

If you are reading this, then I was unable to find you before my death. This means that I do not know your name, nor anything about you, but the fact that you are reading this would give me pleasure, for I hoped that my home would be passed on to a family member. In my youth, I was blessed with a beautiful daughter, who left my home when she turned 18 to never return. I do not blame her for this decision, nor do I wish her ill. Her decision was her own, and it would be wrong of me to say otherwise. It is my hope that you take this house, and its keepers, and live in it for as long as the lord gives you time on this planet, then pass it on to a new generation, just as I did.

I wish to tell you about myself, as I fear I may be the only one who can tell you. I was born in 1916, in the heat of the Great War. My father was a Marine officer who died in the Second Battle of the Marne, leaving my mother to raise me. In 1941, I was 25 and had just had my daughter when World War 2 broke out. I was already working at the plane factory at the time, and the combination of my job and my family kept me out of that war. By the time the war was over, I was running off the floor and working a desk job. During 50's I had made enough to buy this house, and began running a manufacturing business from my home. Then Susan left, and I lost track of the business. Thanks to quick work by the hands of my assistant, the company recovered, and in 74, I sold it. I spent the last 40 years of my life enjoying my home, and it's company, but now I am gone, and it's your decision what you do. Goodbye child.

Gerald Turin."

I looked over the letter twice, before turning the page. The next few pages were tips, hints and instructions about the many quirks of an old house. The door to the furnace room would lock when closed, so there was a spring-loaded pin in the frame that would prevent it from closing, which meant you had to press it down before the door would close. The gas fireplace in the hearth needed a good thwack every spring to get the gas running again. I looked over them with entertainment. Then there were some official information for both the house and my Gerald, finances, bank statements, house repair list. Finally, a list of phone numbers was listed. Local shops, doctors offices, and schools of all ages were listed. Near the bottom of the list was an all girls, private university that was just a few miles from where the house was. It caught my eye as I had seen the name several times in Gerald's bank statements.

It appeared as though he had made a sizable donation to the local school every year after he moved here. My only guess was that he had intended for my Grandma Susan to go there, but as I knew well, she had moved to Chicago and married a blue collar auto worker. The gears began to whir in my head as I wandered back into the foyer, the sketched map of the houses floorplan in my hand. I opened the door to the master bedroom to find everything as Gerald had left it. The room didn't smell of old people as I had expected, but of oak and clean linens. The California King four poster bed sat against the east wall, it's sheets freshly washed and made up nicely.

I sat down on the bed to think for a moment as I felt a new presence enter the room. I looked up in surprise to see Wane carrying my suitcase that had been sitting in the trunk of my car. "Wane? I can carry that!" I got up to help the old man, but found him to be quite limber on his own, setting it on the small settee next to the long dresser that dominated the west wall. "It's alright, Master Lancer. I'm quite a bit stronger than I look."

I blushed at the formality of his statement. "You don't have to call me that. My name is Alex. Alexander, if you must be formal."

Wane nodded with an honest smile. "Master Alexander, then."

I shrugged, "Fine, but did you really carry that all the way up from my car?" I had just realized that my car was still parked at the bottom of the hill in front of Wane and Catherine's cottage.

"No, sir. I took the liberty of moving your car up into the garage."

"What, how?" I reached into the pocket of my jacket to grab the one set of keys to that car, when Wane reaches into his own jacket. I come up empty, but Wane is more successful, pulling my keys from his jacket and handing them to me.

"You left these on the counter of our house. You'd already been gone a few minutes before we realized they were there, we correctly assumed that you had taken the path through the gardens up to the manor, so I drove your car up, and parked it in the garage for you."

"Thank you, Wane."

"Not a problem. Now, a few orders of business." He sat down on the settee, showing his age as he sat. "None of the furniture in the house has sentimental value to us, or to your grandmother, so if there is any piece you would like to replace, let us know and we will give it a new home, and the profits will be returned to you."

I smiled to the old man. He was kind, and his knowing look make me feel comfortable in this too large house. "I haven't seen the upstairs yet, but I really enjoy the style so far."

"Just like your Great-grandfather, honest, yet kind." Wane looked off to the side for a moment, before returning to look at me. "I am also aware that you are a 20 something man of new times, and are probably a bit more technically inclined than Master Turin, so I can safely assume you will be wanting internet and cable, correct?"

I smiled again, Wane's mannerisms were grandfatherly, and his attention to detail made me feel spoiled in a way I hadn't felt since grade school. "Yea, I could use a good connection, I'm a freelance writer and novelist, so I've got to keep up on that if I want to be able to afford food."

"Oh, Master Alexander, I don't think you'll be worrying about the cost of food in your lifetime. Along with the house, Master Turin gave you all of his savings and trusts. The man had a knack for the stock market, even if he wasn't interested in the products they made. Also, you may be interested to look through the library upstairs. Master Turin was very much a reader himself."

I thanked Wane before heading out with him to unpack my car. I didn't have much as I had to carry everything in one car load, but really, as a 25 year old freelance writer, the biggest thing I had brought with me was probably my book collection, which was 4 boxes lined up in my back seat. As I brought in the last of the boxes, I spared another question to Wane.

"What do you think I should do with the spare rooms upstairs, I don't have much of a use for them at the present." I gestured to the small pile of belongings in the great room that consisted of everything I owned.

"Well it's your house, and you can do as you please, but a strapping young man like yourself may find it easier to rent the rooms out for a bit. At least until you find yourself a missus. And there's no better place to hunt missus at your age then the university. Offer a room or two to the wonderful girls there, and you may have a chance at meeting some nice ladies."

I blushed at the idea of girl-chasing, as it was one of the few things I was terrible at. But renting the rooms would be a good idea, at least get my some company, and even though I don't need the cash, charging rent would make it seem less creepy. I thanked Wane for his advice before he offered me down for dinner. Catherine had been cooking a roast when I got there, and there hadn't been a pizza place listed on the restaurant sheet, so I figured dinner with my hosts would be nice.

Catherine's meal was delicious, and their company was much appreciated. It was apparent early on, that I would always be welcome for dinner, and as long as I gave her a few days notice, Catherine was quite happy to cook for any events I was hosting. Among conversation I learned that Catherine had been training to become a professional chef when she met Wane, and when his father got sick, she came with him and became the maid and cook for Gerald's home. Wane had started out as a mechanic for Gerald's company, and was in charge of all household maintenance, as well as the gardening, which he did for his own entertainment more than Gerald's request.

After dinner, I attempted to help clean up, but was shooed off by Catherine to sit and talk with Wane. We sat and talked over some high quality scotch, while Wane had his after dinner pipe. A few hours passed, and I decided to head home. After a hearty goodbye, I returned home and got ready for bed. As I crawled into the huge bed and began to fall asleep, I began to plan in my mind the itinerary for the next few days.