Gemotions

The realtor's face had gone the colour of weak tea. "Well, Mrs. Gable, this is… unexpected," she stammered, holding a file trembling in her hands. Eleanor Gable, on the other hand, felt a peculiar lightness in her chest.

She’d just been envisioning how the living room would look with her new chaise lounge. Now, the realtor was telling her the house, a charming Victorian, had been the site of a jewel heist. Apparently, the prior owner, a renowned art collector, had been tied up.

Eleanor chuckled, a small, breathy sound. "Oh, my heavens," she said, her eyes twinkling. She imagined herself holding court on that very chaise, regaling guests with the thrilling tale. This was much better than the boring history the realtor had spun about the previous family.