"Emma," he repeated, then gestured towards the kitchen.

"Could we talk in there?"

"Sure." She sounded casual, but her stomach tightened at how serious he seemed.

Ernest called something out to his son about making sure they took away all the empty boxes and packing materials and followed her into the kitchen.

Emma pointed to the table.

"Please sit, would you like some coffee?"

"No, thank you," he answered, but did sit down with a wince.

“Too many years moving furniture he grinned ruefully. Good thing the boy's old enough to do it now."

“So what's on your mind?" Emma didn't feel like hearing any aw shucks charm right now,

“You just got here yesterday?"

“Yes, why?"

"Fast." Ernest frowned.

"Then again..." He pointed to her left hand.

“Not married?"

“My husband passed away last year."

“Sorry to hear that." Ernest removed his cap in an old fashioned gesture and placed it over his heart.

“Why do you ask?"

“Because... He shook his head.

"Yeah, here we go, big old house, kind of a dubious history and now the old man from town is gonna say some weird shit to you."

Emma couldn't help but laugh.

"A psychic old man too, because that's kind of where I'm at."

“And I'm a clever old man because the way you didn't just ask what I was on about tells me you're already seeing some weird."

Emma put her finger up.

“Point for you, that was clever and pretty astute."

“Just cause I'm old and from the sticks doesn't mean I'm dumb."