The House of Hargrave
The House of Hargrave The house sat on a hill above Oakhaven like a wounded animal, its white paint peeling, its columns cracked, its veranda sagging under the weight of wisteria that had grown wild and thick as hair. Once, thirty years ago, it had been the grandest plantation house in the county. Now it was a monument to something that had died and refused to rot. Mamie Hargrave stood on the...
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