Grandpa left me a dilapidated house in the outskirts of town in his will, and when I walked into the house, I was stunned.

At first, I wasn’t expecting much when the lawyer handed me the old brass key.

“To the house your grandfather left you,” he said. “Somewhere in the hills. Elder Ridge, I think.”

I blinked. “Does that place still exist?”

The last time I’d been to my grandfather’s house, I was six years old. It was the kind …