There was a series of electronic hums and swooping repetitive click-clacks as Evangeline made copies of the documents on a Xerox machine in the corner of the office. Placing the pages in a slick double-pouch folder emblazoned with the name and logo of her real estate office, she placed the folder on the desk in front of them, giving the bank manager a nod.

He opened a drawer. “Here’s the key, then. It’s all yours.”

Jen and Lane looked at each other, surprised. “That’s it?” Lane asked. “That paperwork doesn’t need to be sent somewhere and processed? We don’t have to wait for official approval or some kind of formal…thing? That’s it? It’s ours?”

Evangeline laughed. “It’s all yours. You can move in tonight if you want.”

Relieved and happy. That was how Jen felt as she took the keys from the Realtor’s fingers a second before Lane could grab them. The unease she’d felt only moments prior had disappeared, and, spontaneously, she leaned over to give her husband a kiss. The house was theirs! They were officially homeowners, and even if they had to roll out sleeping bags on a bare floor, she decided that she did want to spend tonight in their new home.

As quickly as they could, she and Lane took their leave and sped over to the house. Leaving her car parked on the street in front of the bank, they took Lane’s truck, and she called her parents on the way to tell them the good news.

Lane pulled the pickup into the driveway—their driveway!—and they both got out. Now that the home was theirs, Jen saw its potential in a way she had not before. She walked across the small yard, thinking that she could plant some flowers in front, to brighten the place up. It would also be nice to have a fruit tree or two, maybe in the back yard. Apples, perhaps. Or peaches.

“Hey!” Lane called from the stoop. “You have the keys. Open up.”

The interior of the house had not changed since their last visit. She walked slowly through the empty living room, thinking how much bigger it was than the one in their apartment, visualizing where their furniture would go and how she would decorate each area. A refrigerator and electric stove had been left behind in the kitchen, apparently too big for the previous owners to take with them, and she opened the door of the refrigerator to make sure it was on, then turned the knob controlling one of the burners on the stove to verify that it was working. Both appeared to be functioning properly.

She stepped into the hallway. It was darker than it should have been, and Jen immediately saw why.

The door across from the bathroom was closed.

She reached for the knob, tried to turn it.

“This door’s locked,” she said, frowning.