The Gatekeeper
Meg barely knew the old man. He was her grandmother's brother, rarely seen at family events.
“His job, you know. They keep him there almost all the time. He hardly gets away.”
Then he died and she got a letter.
Dear Miss Davis:
We regret to inform you that your great-uncle Milton Davis has died. He was caretaker at the Ashton Estate.
This position has traditionally been held by members of your family. In the event of your great-uncle's death, it will be offered to you.
We will send you information on travel arrangements so that you may investigate the position in person.
Sincerely
William Bell
Bell, Harris & Wood
Meg wasn't sure what to do. She felt like she couldn't take care of herself, let alone an estate. Friends told her to just go along for the free trip and turn down the offer, but that went against her nature.
A plane ride across the Atlantic, a chauffeured limousine ride, and she was on her way up a long driveway surrounded by thick woods. The forest gave way to a clear area with two stone buildings. One was a tower that looked like it had suffered a fire in the distant past. It was leaning to the left. The car continued on to the ruins of a stately manor house. A man was standing in front of a Mercedes-Benz.
“Miss Davis? I am William Bell,” he said. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“It was okay, I guess,” Meg replied. “What is this place?”
“This is your new home, Miss Davis. You will be the caretaker at the Ashton Estate.”
“I just came to check things out,” Meg said. “I didn't commit to anything. Your firm said I wasn't obligated just by coming here.”
The attorney gave her a firm look. “You don't know your family history, do you, Miss Davis? Your ancestors caused this fire, killing the Ashton family, in 1851. Since then, members of your family have been taking care of the estate as atonement.”
Meg was stunned.
“You can't do this! I didn't have anything to do with that. I don't have to pay for a crime I didn't commit!”
Bell calmly told her, “You will stay in the gardener's cottage. I've got a list of instructions here for you.” He handed her a three-ring binder.
“You are allowed to leave for a month once every three years. You can do your grocery shopping by Internet or telephone – there is a shop in town that will deliver. You will receive an allowance quarterly for your expenses.”
Meg protested, but the lawyer kept talking.
“There are contact numbers in the binder. I've taken the liberty of having your things brought here from the States. Your duties aren't too onerous. Your family members have been fairly long-lived until now. It's quite possible that you will live until the time limit expires in 2051. Good luck.”
He slid into the smooth seat of his Mercedes and shut the door, locking her out. The limousine followed him, leaving Meg with her suitcase standing in the drive, watching.
