They met at the house on the hill; the one bracketed by oak trees. If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Mazur and her inscrutable desire to have a luncheon with everyone on Belfast Lane, they may not have met at all. 

~

He could hear the party long before they made their way up the brick pathway to the door. It was red brick (the kind of red that encompassed several different reds depending on how the light fell) in a herringbone pattern. He knew that only because his mom hadn’t stopped admiring it since they’d pulled up the driveway.

“I hope we brought enough,” Mary fussed, looking between the cookie platter in her hands and the pie in Jamie’s. He smiled, not having the heart to tell her they most certainly hadn’t. He’d counted the cars lining the driveway on their way up and just short of breaking their cookies into fourths and the pie into sixty-fourths, there was no way they’d be feeding everyone.

“I’m sure there will be. She probably cleaned out the pastry shop.” It was the unspoken law of luncheons to provide the food, right? It wasn’t a potluck. He hoped bringing something was just a courtesy.

As the driveway fell away, Jamie finally got a good look at the house on the hill that had been inaccessible to the public for almost forty years. And he could now confirm that all the fantastical tales about the Mazur Manor paled in comparison to the real thing.

The house, if it could be called that, was a thing of marvel. Equal parts modern and medieval, comprised of bright red brick, it stood three stories high. Creeping ivy had taken over most of the eastern side of the manor, it’s roots weaving an impossible tapestry around the turret. Through the large multi-paneled windows, Jamie could see the party in full swing; the people of Belfast milling around in what he could only assume were states of heightened wonder.

“Wow,” Mary breathed and he could only nod in agreement. Wow. 

All at once, he felt impossibly small.

~

The air was oppressive. Being sixteen made it so all social affairs felt that way, but this one was worse. Jamie felt like he couldn’t move, let alone breathe. For how spacious the house was, even it couldn’t comfortably accommodate every family on Belfast Lane. If he could just find a bathroom, maybe he could get that three minutes of quiet he desperately needed. 

Dodging a man laden with a rather full cocktail tray, Jamie took to the gilded spiral staircase, fingers hovering just over the rail as he climbed. He didn’t dare touch it; couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to. It was made of such careful extravagance. 

After three unsuccessful attempts at finding a bathroom, the boy pushed one more door open with impatience, breath stuttering when he found a pair of eyes staring back at him.

Cross-legged between stacks of books, some missing spines, some cracked with age, was a girl. She rose a brow, slowly closing the book in her lap.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Jamie mirrored the look, mouth moving before he’d thought better of it.

“Are you?” To his surprise, she laughed.

“Considering this is my gram’s house? Yeah, I guess.” 

Shit.

“I’m— I am so sorry, I uh. I was just trying to find a bathroom and—” The girl laughed again.

“It’s all good, you’re fine. Finding an empty bathroom down there is probably like finding a needle in a haystack. There’s a bathroom two doors down, if you want. I don’t think anyone’s had the stones to come up here and use it so it should be free.” Cracking the book open again, she leaned back against the wall and for the first time, Jamie noticed the painting there.

A floor to ceiling depiction of an oak tree had been painted on the brick, the detailing so vivid, he was sure the bark would be rough to the touch. Scattered amongst the great oak’s branches were three squirrels, their tiny hands filled with acorns. Jamie followed the lines of the dense trunk down down down to the floor where roots stretched across the hardwood, disappearing under the stacks of books around the girl.

The marvels of the Mazur Manor just didn’t stop.

“What?” Glancing down, Jamie could almost feel his cheeks reddening.

“This house. It’s just— it’s amazing and no one ever would’ve known. Just kind of, I dunno, mind-boggling. Anyways. . . s’cuse me.” Without further preamble, Jamie showed himself out of the room and made his way to the aforementioned bathroom. He missed the way she smiled after him.

~

Jamie needed to get back to the party but certain forces were working against him. One: he didn’t think his anxiety could handle another trip downstairs. Two: he was still curious about the room with the oak tree.

Curiosity won out.

“Need help finding another room?” The girl didn’t even glance up from her book as he knocked with a knuckle and toed the door open.

“No, I uh— I was just wondering if, um. . .” Now she did glance up and once again he was assaulted by the wonderful strangeness of the manor. One of her eyes was green, the other brown. How he’d missed that was beyond him. “Would it be okay to hide out here for a bit? I just— there are a lot of people down there and I’d go sit in my mom’s car but I’d probably die of  heat stroke or something.”

Jamie held his breath as she considered him, closing the book around her finger to hold her page.

One beat. 

Then two. 

Three beats and he was beginning to realize how weird the request sounded. 

Four beats and he’d just about backed out of the door with a murmured apology before she opened the book again and waved him back in.

“Sure. Leave your shoes by the door though. They’ll scuff the floor.”

He did just that, toeing his running shoes off with care. As he placed them by the door, he realized that the roots didn’t stop just below the tree — they extended throughout the entirety of the room.

“Oh my God.” Jamie glanced up as the remark elicited a snicker from the girl and couldn’t help his grin. “Sorry. You’re trying to read and I’m probably being annoying — but this house is just ridiculous. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Trust me, I know, what it’s like.” She grinned back, gesturing vaguely. “I was the exact same way like, a week ago? Before that I’d never even stepped foot in here.”

That didn’t seem right.

“But this is your grandma’s place, right? I mean, I knew it was closed to the public but I assumed family was different?”

“You and me both.” 

Jamie faltered. The girl seemed to sense this.

“I’m Cameron, by the way.” She held out a hand. Jamie made his way over, careful not to knock any of the precariously stacked book towers over.

“Jamie.”

“Nice to meet you, Jamie.” Cameron smiled, giving his hand a good shake before letting go to push a stack of books out of the way. She patted the spot beside her. “So. Care to help me figure out why this place hasn’t been open in forty some odd years?”

He couldn’t have smiled any wider.

“Hell yes.”