The Move
1436 Words
(Aspen’s POV)
I said yes too quickly.
One second I was standing in a stranger’s mansion, trying not to stare at his bare chest like I’d forgotten how to be a functioning adult, and the next second I was agreeing to a job I had never done, with a salary that made my brain short circuit, and a living situation that sounded like a scam on paper.
A normal person would have asked questions first. They would have asked about job duties, safety, boundaries, maybe even demanded a written contract before agreeing to live on a stranger’s property.
But normal people didn’t have Winter and Holly.
The moment the offer left Slade Mercer’s mouth, all I could see was my sisters sleeping in a crowded shelter room, pretending they weren’t scared at night. If this job was real, it could change everything for us.
So, the word yes slipped out before my brain could stop it.
And now I was standing in the middle of a mansion beside a woman who looked like she had walked straight out of a storybook.
Mrs. Bigley was short and round, with gray hair twisted neatly at the back of her head. Her expression looked stern until she smiled, and when she did, her entire face softened.
“Well,” she said, studying me. “You’re beautiful, dear, but we’re going to have to get some proper food into you.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. Something about her voice reminded me of the kind of grandmother people wrote about in books.
“Come along,” she said, patting my arm. “I’ll show you around.”
She led me through the house at a brisk pace.
The mansion was enormous, but she didn’t linger long enough for me to get overwhelmed.
“This is the main kitchen,” she said as we stepped inside a bright, spotless space. “You’ll be in and out of here often while managing Mr. Mercer’s schedule.”
I nodded quickly, trying to absorb everything.
She continued down a hallway and gestured toward a staircase.
“Up there is the family wing,” she said. “Mr. Mercer’s room and private space.”
My brain helpfully replayed the image of him standing shirtless in the doorway.
I quickly shoved that memory away.
We moved through the house quickly after that. I was grateful. If she had slowed down, I probably would have started worrying about how out of place I looked in a mansion like this.
Then she opened the glass doors at the back of the house.
The backyard stretched wide and open. I noticed a pool and a tennis court, but before I could focus on anything else, my attention caught on the two separate buildings farther back.
One looked like a small house.
The other was larger, with tall walls and bright lights.
Mrs. Bigley pointed toward the smaller building.
“That’s the guest house,” she said proudly. “You’ll be staying there.”
My stomach twisted with nervous excitement.
“And the other one?” I asked.
Her smile widened.
“That,” she said, “is the hockey rink.”
I blinked.
“The… hockey rink?”
“Yes, dear.” She said it casually. “Mr. Mercer trains every day.”
A full hockey rink in someone’s backyard seemed completely absurd.
But before I could ask anything else, Mrs. Bigley clapped her hands together.
“Breakfast.”
She guided me back inside and sat me at the kitchen island. Within moments a plate appeared in front of me.
Eggs. Toast. Hash browns. Fruit.
More food than I usually ate in an entire day.
My stomach growled loudly enough for her to hear.
“Eat,” she said gently.
And I did.
I tried to slow down, but once I started eating, I realized how hungry I really was. By the time the plate was empty, warmth spread through my chest and my shoulders relaxed for the first time all morning.
Mrs. Bigley watched with quiet satisfaction.
“Now,” she said, “tell me about yourself.”
I answered her questions between sips of water.
When she asked if I had siblings, I couldn’t help smiling.
“Two younger sisters,” I said. “Winter is sixteen and Holly is fourteen.”
“What lovely names,” she said warmly.
“My parents loved Christmas,” I explained. “Everything about it.”
She chuckled softly.
“Well, I look forward to meeting them.”
My smile faded slightly.
“They’ll be living with me in the guest house,” I said quickly. “But they won’t cause any trouble. They’ll be at school all day.”
Mrs. Bigley reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“My dear,” she said kindly, “you don’t need to apologize for having family.”
My throat tightened.
“Now,” she continued briskly, standing up, “when are you bringing those girls here?”
I hesitated. “They’re still in school. I thought maybe in a few days?”
“Nonsense,” she said immediately. “You’ll move in today.”
The certainty in her voice left no room for argument.
“And those girls will have a warm dinner tonight,” she added.
Something in my chest softened.
“Alright,” I said quietly. “Today.”
She nodded. “Good.”
Two hours later I was back at the shelter.
I sat in the common room, turning the guest house keys over and over in my hands.
Winter and Holly would be back from school soon.
While I waited, Vera walked into the room.
She stopped when she saw me.
“You look like you’re about to faint,” she said, dropping into the chair across from me. “What happened?”
“I got the job.”
Her eyes widened. “The assistant job?”
I nodded.
“And I’m moving into the guest house on the property.”
Vera blinked slowly.
“Guest house?” she repeated. “Who is this person?”
I hesitated before answering. “His name is Slade Mercer.”
Vera froze.
“Aspen,” she said slowly, “are you sure that’s the name?”
I pulled the contract from my bag.
She grabbed the papers and scanned them quickly. Vera used to be a corporate lawyer before she left that world behind.
She finished reading and looked at me with wide eyes.
“Do you know who Slade Mercer is?”
I shrugged helplessly. “A businessman?”
Vera laughed.
“No. He’s the starting center for the San Diego Cyclones.”
My stomach dropped.
Hockey.
That was why the name sounded familiar.
My dad had watched every Cyclones game when I was younger.
“Oh no,” I groaned, covering my face. “Why didn’t I realize that?”
Vera laughed again. “You really walked into his house without knowing who he was?”
“I’ve been busy surviving,” I said defensively.
She softened and tapped the contract.
“This is a very generous job offer,” she said. “The salary alone could change your life.”
My chest tightened.
Vera squeezed my hand.
“This is your chance to get out of here,” she said gently.
I nodded.
There wasn’t much to pack.
Just a few bags. Clothes. Holly’s sketchbook. Winter’s notebook. A photo of the three of us with Mom.
When the girls came back from school, they stopped short when they saw the bags.
“Aspen?” Winter asked. “What’s going on?”
“We’re moving.”
Holly squealed.
“Today?”
“Today.”
Both girls threw their arms around me.
Vera helped carry the bags outside and load them into my car.
Before I left, she rested her hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t want to see you back here,” she said gently.
“You won’t,” I promised.
The drive across town was filled with the girls pointing out houses and fountains, their excitement bubbling over.
When the gate opened automatically in front of us, both girls gasped.
I parked in front of the guest house and turned off the engine.
None of us moved.
We just stared.
The little house looked warm and welcoming, with tall windows and a small porch.
For the first time in months, something inside my chest loosened.
Winter whispered, “Is this really ours?”
I held up the keys.
“For now,” I said.
Then I smiled at them.
“Welcome home.”
- Writer
