They climbed out of the vehicle, and she was glad to have a moment to study the greenhouse more closely. Sunlight cut across the glass, creating stunning shapes and angles. She raised the camera and started shooting. “Her grandfather built it?”

“In 1941. It was a gift to his English bride. Dr. Carter met his wife, Olivia, while he was studying at Oxford.”

“Nice gift.”

“As the story goes, they married faster than they had planned because of the war. It was during the Blitz, and London was not a safe place to be.”

“I’m assuming your grandfather helped her to stock the greenhouse.”

“I suppose.”

“Any idea about the cost to fix this place?”

“It’s not going to be cheap.”

She snapped pictures of the dome, which caught the midday sun just right.

The sound of another car engine had her lowering her camera and stiffening a little. Elaine got out of her truck, moving toward them with quick strides that reminded Libby a little of her own gait.

“What do you think?” Elaine asked.

“It’s impressive.”

Colton walked to the back of his truck and grabbed a crowbar and a small saw. “I was down here yesterday,” he said. “The door is rusted shut, so it will take a little work. Will do my best not to break anything, but no guarantees.”

“Yes, you’ve warned me before.” Beyond Elaine’s smile was an edge of impatience.

Gripping the crowbar, Colton strode toward the arched doorway, where an area had already been cleared. “Ready?”

“I delayed the big reveal until you arrived, Libby,” Elaine said. “I thought you might get a kick out of it.”

Libby assumed Elaine wanted the entire project documented. “I’ve already taken a few pictures of it. Mind if I continue?”

“Not at all,” she said. “Go ahead, Colton.”

Libby raised her camera. She always felt calmer behind the lens, knowing it created a barrier between her and the world. When people looked at the camera lens, they became self-aware and ceased to notice her.

As she took pictures, she allowed her line of sight to follow a beam of sunlight shooting from above the tree canopy. The grime on the domed glass shielded most of the light, but some rays seeped into the interior. It looked a little supernatural, like it was glowing.

“I’ve been wanting to open this for a couple of years,” Elaine said. “But as with everything, it’s a matter of priorities. There was so much to fix at the main house and the primary gardens. This was a distant thought at the time.”

Colton wedged the edge of his crowbar between the doorframe and the door, moving it gently back and forth. Portions of the fused metal gave a little but still remained stuck. He patiently moved the crowbar upward, working along the entire seam. This went on for twenty minutes as he methodically worked up and down the length of the door until, finally, he wedged it open.

He set the bar aside and with gloved hands pulled the door open. The growing sound of barking dogs drifted down the hill, and Libby turned to see Kelce and Sarge headed their way.

“I’ll have to take the entire door assembly off eventually, but for now, we can get inside. Elaine, I’d let you go first, but it might be best if I checked it out for any snakes or other hazards.”

“Have at it,” Elaine said.

“I’m not fond of snakes either,” he said, grinning. “But here goes nothing.”

Elaine chuckled. “Woodmont would be in ruins if not for you.”

Libby sensed a comradery between the two that came as close to friendship as an employer and employee might have. However, in this part of the world, the line between their places in life would always exist, regardless of respect or love of the land.

Colton stepped into the greenhouse, pulling a small flashlight from his pocket. Libby took pictures, wishing now she had a wide-angle lens to capture more of the eerie beauty of the space.

Libby listened to the steady thud of Colton’s footsteps as he stepped deeper inside. Midday light did little to penetrate the darkness or dull the dank smell. She could barely see his shape pass in front of the glass, hazy with moss and mildew.

“Have you ever been inside, Elaine?” Libby asked.

“Yes,” Elaine said. “I used to go in with my grandmother when I was a little girl. She and I planted together, and she even gave me my own little garden journal so I could keep notes like she did in hers.”

“If she kept gardening journals, then you have a record of what she grew in here.”

“I have very detailed records. She created her first journal in 1942 and created a new one each year until the greenhouse was closed in the eighties.” Elaine regarded the greenhouse, as if she saw all her regrets reflected back in the murky panes.

Curiosity captured Libby’s full attention. “Why did your grandmother stop maintaining this?”

“I’m not sure why she stopped coming down here.”

“You must have been really close to her,” Libby said, struggling to forge a connection.

Elaine stared at the greenhouse, her thoughts appearing to drift back in time. “She was an amazing woman in so many ways. And she had more influence on my life than anyone. She would have done anything to protect me.”

“Is it safe for Colton to be inside?” Libby asked.

“Colton did a preliminary structural examination of the exterior and said the support beams all appeared sound.”

“No offense, but he’s a gardener,” Libby countered. She imagined the entire thing falling in on their heads and made a mental note to add hard hats to her photography equipment.

“He’s a gardener with a mechanical engineering degree,” Elaine said.

Colton appeared at the door. “It’s clear. Just watch your step. There’s a lot of muck on the ground.” He looked at both dogs. “Stay.”

“You want to go first?” Elaine asked Libby.

“No,” she said. “This is your project. You should be the first.”

Elaine’s eyes suddenly filled with nervous energy, and she hesitated at the threshold.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Libby said. What was she afraid of?

“No, you first,” Elaine said. “I don’t want to hold you up.”

Libby had been born with a natural curiosity and daring. When she was little, she had challenged her parents with endless questions and had often argued with their answers. Her thirst to see and do had compelled her across country to California to attend nursing school. And it had given her the courage to try for the third pregnancy.

In the last few years, her inability to risk anything had grown out of control. She had thought her choice to retreat was strategic, as it had been when she was a kid. However, in the old days, she’d found a way to move forward again. Now, she wondered if she would ever leave her dad’s house and get back on the horse.

Here she stood, afraid to go in a damn greenhouse because she was worried about the stupid roof caving in or a snake biting her or whatever. The world was passing her by, as the images of Jeremy and Monica had proved. That realization pushed her over the threshold. After all, what could go wrong? She glanced up at the greenhouse’s domed ceiling covered in moss. Ceiling collapse. Rats and snakes. Broken glass.