Standing in front of Grandma’s pride and joy, it was the spring of 1875, six months after receiving the letter from Mr. Martinez, and what he had described in his letter was true. The life blood that once traveled through The Hensel House had drained out onto the dusty road beneath my feet. Nothing resembled the tintypes Grandma had sent when she first arrived in California a decade earlier. Now it was up to me to restore and run the once treasured landmark. I silently vowed, as I stood outside the door, to do whatever I had to do to make her proud. Exhausted and overwhelmed from my journey, I felt my knees begin to buckle. As I reached out for the door to steady me, I was surprised when the door easily pushed open. When my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness inside, the shadows of what I saw made me shiver. I reached out in front of me, searching for something to grab onto.
To be continued….Stay tuned!