We spent most of our time learning how to live in the modern world. Savannah took us to a bank, and to get new identification–making us an official part of this new world. I was surprised to see my bank account still intact, the interest offsetting the inactivity fees, and along with what was left of Savannah’s inheritance, we had enough to be more than comfortable. She bought a laptop, and showed us how to use computers. One day she came home with even smaller computers she called phones. I wasn’t very good with mine. It made a lot of weird noises and annoyed me, so it was off more than it was on. Grocery stores, too, were something that overwhelmed us. There was so much choice at our fingertips, when we had been used to none.

We were lucky to have a place to stay, but Brynn’s home was small, and we were quickly overstaying our welcome. A hotel would’ve been too costly, especially with none of us working quite yet. Savannah offered to go back to the diner, but I wouldn’t let her, especially after I discussed it with Luther. Finally I addressed everyone as we sat in Brynn’s living room, Savannah on Theo’s lap while Luther and I shared the couch. “Why don’t we go back to the house? It’s big enough for all of us,” I suggested.

Brynn, Savannah, and Theo stared back at me. Luther and I exchanged knowing glances.

“What?” I asked, frowning. “It makes the most logical sense.”

“Yes, but…” Savannah cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure?”

The house was filled with bad memories, yes. Being trapped for so long. Being cursed. Dying. But it was also filled with good things. Meeting Savannah. Watching her moan my name. Finding a family, and a purpose. And the idea of taking back control over the house that held sway over me for so long was an absolutely delicious idea. “Yes. I’m sure.” My orchids needed me. And Luther and I had hatched a plan.

We moved back the next day. It was weird standing in front of it, knowing how much time I had spent hating the house, resenting everything it had taken away from me. Now, looking at it, I realized it was just a house. It wasn’t anything special. The people inside made it a home, and looking around me now at the people I loved more than anything else in the world, I knew that was what had been missing from the beginning. A family. People who loved unconditionally. It was what we had all been missing.

So we got to work.

Most of the furniture was removed, donated to charity or antique stores. A new start was what we all needed. She did request her and Luther’s library armchairs stay though–a request I was more than happy to oblige.