5/11/2023 0 Comments The other mrs kubica![]() ![]() He and I lean forward in our seats at exactly the same time, taking it in,Īs do the boys in the back seat. Will pauses, bringing the car to rest in the street. He hadn’t had time to see the house then. ![]() Then he’d flown back, so we could drive here together. He’d flown in last week, to Portland, to take care of the official paperwork. “That one,” I say to Will, pointing at it because it’s identical to the one in the picture that was given to Will from the executor of the estate. If the sun were out maybe I’d feel differently. It doesn’t help that the day, like the house, is gray. But I know better than to take things at face value. ![]() On the surface, there’s nothing about the house that’s not to like. The street itself is charming, sloped and tree-covered, each house as lovely and well-kept as the next. It’s boxy and big, a foursquare farmhouse with windows aligned in rows, symmetrical in a way I find eye-pleasing. ![]() On the surface, it’s perfectly idyllic, gray with a large covered porch, one that runs the full width of the house. Something that nags at me, makes me feel uneasy, though I don’t know what it is about the house that makes me feel this way. ![]()
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