Page 117 of Her Darkest Possession
The car turns onto the long winding driveway leading up to where the Baryshev mansion once stood. Construction crews are everywhere. The rebuilding started almost immediately after the funerals, and everyone seemed eager to see it completed as soon as possible.
We come to a stop, and Anatoly puts the car in park. Then, he steps out of the car, comes around to open my door, and helps me out to look at the sight.
"What do you think?" he asks.
The structure before us is unmistakably the same mansion, but now it feels somehow different. Like a great weight has been lifted from within it. Where before it felt like a beautiful prison, now it looks and truly feels like a home.
"It's beautiful," I tell him.
And I mean it.
"We're still on track to completing in a couple of more months," he tells me. "Everything should be ready for us to move in by late summer when Oliver arrives. Come, we can take a look inside."
I glance back at the car where Amara and Svetlana still haven't gotten out. Amara's hunched over her phone, frantically refreshing the Columbia admissions portal. Her finger swipes downward repeatedly, her eyes never leaving the screen.
"Anything yet?" I call back.
Amara shakes her head without looking up. "Not yet. It should be any minute now."
Svetlana leans over, peering at the screen. "Stop worrying so much. You definitely got in."
"Don't jinx it!" Amara snaps, pulling her phone closer to her chest protectively. "The essay still wasn't perfect, and my math grades from junior year were?—"
"Perfectly fine." Svetlana rolls her eyes at me over Amara's head. "You worry more than your sister, and that says a lot, Amara Malcolmovna."
Amara groans. "Easy for you to say! Columbia is super competitive, and what if something went wrong with the application? What if they lost it, or, or?—"
"Or nothing," I call back to her. "They'll announce their decision when they announce, and worrying about it won't do you any good."
"Easy for you to say, Miels. You already got in once."
"Yeah, Miels," Svetlana backs her up. "Not all of us are as accomplished as you."
She usually takes Amara's side in things these days. But I suppose that's just what little sisters do. They stick together and refuse to listen to the wisdom of their elders.
But I am glad to see that their friendship has only deepened, and I'm even gladder that it finally feels like things can return to a semblance of normality.
"Fine, worry all you want. But would you at least like to come look at the house with us? Refreshing won't make the decision come any faster."
"Ugh, fine." Amara shoves her phone back in her back pocket.
We walk through the rebuilt front doors of the mansion, and I'm struck by how similar it looks to the original woodwork. Most of the walls have been rebuilt, and even under the cover of several large plastic tarp, the elegant staircase has been restored to its former glory.
"It's already looking so beautiful," I say.
Anatoly nods. "They'll be putting on the final touches in a few weeks. Paint, fixtures, molding... and then the furniture will arrive next month."
We make our way down the west wing through hallways lined with plastic sheeting. Workers nod respectfully as we pass, and a few even pause their tasks to greet Anatoly with a deferential bow.
When we reach a particular door, Anatoly stops. He glances at me with an expression I can't quite read—something between excitement and nervousness—before pushing the door open.
I step inside and gasp.
Unlike the rest of the house, this room is completely finished. The walls are painted a soft sky blue with delicate white clouds. A beautiful wooden crib sits in the center, with a matching changing table and rocking chair nearby. A bookshelf already filled with children's books stands against one wall, and a plush carpet covers the floor. In the corner sits a small mountain of unopened boxes.
It's Oliver's nursery!
"When... how did this happen?" I ask.
