Best job I ever had was caretaker of the Grandmoor house.
At the time there was all kinds of talk about historic preservation since the family that built it were city founders. They owned the mill and the box factory, had all kinds of servants. One was even the mayor.
The original grounds had seventy acres before hard times winnowed it down to the last three.
Still, it was a swell place with brick porticos and a pipe organ in the parlor.
None of the family are alive now. Some moved away when the money ran out. So it goes.
And so it goes … but at least your person gets to caretake the family property. And in a way, hold on. … Well done!
Nicely done. I like that you used the caretaker’s voice.
A sad and realistic take on the poor roses. So many once-great estates have become museums for the looky-loos.
Money is a strange thing, historical it faded away, but you have me wondering about those individual families ‘today’ who are obscenity wealthy
All things decay in their way. Good story.
Ronda