Things start to pick up from here, so thanks to any who have been reading and stuck with it so far. This is a shorter bridge chapter, so I decided to put up two chapters today. Hope you enjoy!

Quentin and Willa were alone in the dining room when Oliver and I returned. The house felt unnaturally still, and I looked at Quentin in question.

"The rest of the family had to get going," he explained. "You'll see them here again, I'm sure, if you decide to stay. Thea's in boarding school in Boston and Tommy and Malcolm are usually working at Merlyn Enterprises, but Reggie spends a fair amount of time here. I'll let them know what you've decided, once you figure it out."

"Great," I said. "Thank you."

"Of course. Unfortunately, you left before we were able to go over some of the…details." He paused, then changed his mind about his phrasing. "Conditions might be a better word – that you should know before you decide whether or not to stay for the year here."

"I should go," Willa said briskly. "You won't need me here for this."

"Me too," Oliver said. He looked relieved for the out.

"Actually," Quentin said, "I'd like you both to stay, if you don't mind. You both have parts to play, if Felicity decides to stay on the island. Please." He motioned toward the table. "Everyone – sit."

I sat. With more space at the table now, Oliver and Willa chose chairs a few spaces down from me. I felt small and alone, childlike, as I took my place and waited for Quentin to continue.

"Moira explained on the video that she would like you to stay here for a period of one year before making the final determination of whether you'd like to keep or sell the house," Quentin began.

"Yep," I said with a nod. "I got that part."

"Right," Quentin said. He hesitated. "Your parents had actually been thinking about this before the accident. Their intention had been to contact you and offer this same package, but obviously that never happened."

"Live in the house for a year and it's mine," I clarified, unnerved at the revelation. "That would have been a weird call. No weirder than when you called me, I guess. Maybe a little bit weirder – them waiting until I was an adult and didn't actually need anything from them before they came out of nowhere and—"

"Felicity," Quentin said. I pulled up short, and blew out a quick breath. Right. Felicity, stop talking.

"Sorry. I babble when I'm freaked out. I know I've done a lot of babbling today."

"It's fine," he assured me. His eyes were still kind, with very little of the impatience I might have expected in the situation. "Should I keep going?"

"Please."

"You're to stay in the house for a year, and after that time it's yours to do whatever you want. If when the year is up you decide you don't want Merlyn Manor, you can sell it to the others in the family at fair market value, or if they prefer not to buy, I can help you work with a real estate agent."

"What if I want to sell before that?" I asked.

"That's not an option," Quentin said. "If you choose not to stay, you forfeit this element of your inheritance – though you'll still get everything apart from Merlyn Manor, which includes a sizable trust fund, stocks, bonds, et cetera."

"What happens to the house then?"

"It will go to Reggie."

I nodded. That wasn't so bad. Reggie loved the house, I was sure, and despite the fact that he seemed a little tightly wound now, the visions I had of him when he was younger were all good. He seemed like a nice enough man, who would take care of this place.

"So, I could start here and then, if it didn't work out I could just talk to Reggie and he gets Merlyn Manor in my place."

"That's correct," Quentin confirmed. "Though, as I mentioned, there are some caveats to you staying in the house for the prescribed year."

"Those caveats being?" I prompted, when he didn't say more. My mind leapt to a thousand bizarre scenarios generated from too many hours of reality TV, but I was guessing I wouldn't have to eat rat testicles or dig a tunnel with a serving spoon before the house was mine.

"The length of time – one year – is firm. And both Moira and Robert felt it important that you actually remain here for the duration of that time."

I nodded, dismissing the additional information until the words sank in. "Wait – like, never leave?" Okay, maybe those rat testicles weren't off the table after all.

Quentin laughed. "Of course not. You're permitted to come and go as you please." He coughed, then looked down at his papers. "So long as you return to the house within twelve hours."

My eyebrows shot up. "Seriously?"

"You'll have two respites over the course of the year, which you can take at your convenience. Neither of which should last more than seventy-two hours."

Well, that was clearly nuts. Quentin obviously wasn't done, however, so I decided I might as well fight him on everything once it was all spelled out; otherwise, we might never get through this conversation.

"What else?" I asked.

He looked relieved that I wasn't arguing. "Your parents were naturally concerned about your health. Therefore, Dr. McLaren will be attending to you with a weekly exam to ensure that you are suffering no…ill effects from the house."

"Why would I suffer ill effects from the house?" I asked suspiciously. "You mean, like lead poisoning?"

"I phrased that poorly," Quentin said quickly. "I just mean that it's important to all of us that you remain healthy over the course of the year."

"Fine," I said. "But a weekly exam seems excessive, don't you think? I'm healthy – there's no reason for me to bother Dr. McLaren with a checkup every week."

"It's no bother," Willa said. "They're right – you should have someone looking out for you while you're here."

"Fine, so have a neighbor check on me once a week or something. I don't need a doctor probing me."

"I'm afraid this is nonnegotiable," Quentin said.

"I promise to keep the probing to a minimum," Willa said, with a genial smile.

"Okay," I said shortly. "Don't leave for a year. Get a weekly, non-prob-y physical. What else? Let me guess: no drugs, no drinking, no late nights, no sex with strange men…"

Oliver stifled a laugh. Quentin coughed, and stared fixedly at his paperwork.

"Actually…" he began.

If I thought my eyebrows shot up before, this time it was amazing they didn't shoot clear off my head. "Seriously?"

"Drinking is fine," he said, then amended, "in moderation. You're welcome to set your own schedule with respect to sleeping."

"And the…other?" I asked, aware that my cheeks must be at least as red as poor Quentin's.

"It was important to your parents that you not be distracted by any romantic entanglements over the course of the year."

"Romantic entanglements?" I repeated.

"Of any kind," Quentin said firmly. He looked at me, and I was grateful for the eye contact despite the awkwardness. "No dates. No…liaisons. I believe you were single in Portland?"

I nodded, and noted somewhere in the back of my head that Oliver suddenly appeared a lot more interested in the conversation.

"Yes," I said. God, why couldn't the earth open up and swallow you when you needed it most? "I was single."

Because I'm always single. It wasn't like the celibacy rule would be a problem for me, if I were being honest. With the visions that were triggered whenever someone touched me, dating had never exactly been a priority.

Still, it was the principle of the thing.

"Moira also requested that someone serve as security for you and the house while you are here."

I closed my eyes, a headache beginning to edge its way into my temples. "Let me guess: that would be why Oliver is here."

"If Oliver's amenable to the terms," Quentin said.

"Of course," Oliver said.

"Is there anything else?" I asked, cooler now. I forced my eyes back open.

Quentin shook his head. He looked miserable. "No. That's everything. Take as much time as you need to think things over."

I nodded again, but otherwise didn't move. I had a job waiting for me back in Portland. Friends. A life – a good life, as a matter of fact.

I thought of the grounds at Merlyn Manor once more. There was a budget – a big one, I had no doubt – for whatever I wanted to do. I would have complete control of three hundred acres, much of it already wild. Plus, there was the greenhouse. So I couldn't leave for a year. Honestly, where did I think I would go?

And at the end of the year, if I didn't like it, I could give the place to Reggie and still have enough money from my trust fund to do whatever I wanted.

"I'll do it," I said.

Both Quentin and Willa couldn't have looked more shocked if I'd just told them I was leaving today to start colonizing Mars. Oliver alone looked unsurprised.

"Felicity—" Willa began, an unexpected warning implicit in the way she said my name.

"It's her decision," Oliver said to her, his tone sharp. The exchange caught me off guard, a connection between them that I hadn't seen before.

"It's fine," I said. "I can do this. Just give me whatever papers you need me to sign, Quentin. I'll need a few days to tell people what's happening and get my stuff together back in Oregon. I'm assuming that's all right?"

Wordlessly, Quentin nodded.

And, like that, it was decided.