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Margot Elise Winters

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Beschreibung

When widowed piano teacher Margaret Halberg takes in Delia, a courteous young woman needing a place to stay, it feels simple enough: no guests, shared chores, one month to see how it goes. Margaret wants her routines. Delia brings warmth. And the house, once so still, begins to feel alive again.
But unease creeps in.
Delia cooks, cleans, and listens yet she asks questions no one else would. She lingers in doorways, studies family photos too closely. And behind Margaret’s careful manners, dread grows with every hushed phone call, every pill that goes missing.
As Margaret’s health slips and old memories surface letters left unsent, names never spoken the line between guest and intruder blurs. Delia may not just be renting a room. She may be reclaiming a life that was never hers.
When the past knocks and smiles at the door, is it offering peace or demanding reckoning?
***
Like every tale in Turning Points, this one proves that trust is fragile and nothing is ever what it seems.
Turning Points is a twist-driven series where the unexpected always finds you. From unsettling family dramas to sharp-edged sci-fi and dark comedy, each book delivers a jolt a secret, a reveal that turns the truth upside down. These stories cut across suspense, emotion, and ideas built to linger, written for readers who crave the gasp, the double-take, the moment that shifts everything.
You’ll question what looks certain. You’ll flip back through pages.
Because here, trust is never safe and every ending rewrites the start.

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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

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The Spare Room Pact

A Quiet Deal Between Neighbors Turns Explosive

TURNING POINTS: Twisted Tales for the Bold & Curious

Margot Elise Winters

Copyright © 2025 by Margot Elise Winters

All rights reserved. This book, including all individual stories and original content, is protected under international copyright law. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from the author, except for brief excerpts used in reviews or academic commentary, which must be properly credited.

Fiction Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Creative Tools Notice:

Some aspects of this book including cover artwork, illustrations, or other visual and creative elements were developed with the assistance of licensed generative technologies under appropriate commercial-use terms. These elements are original compositions intended solely for this publication.

Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoy every page inside.

Table of Contents

 

The Spare Room Pact

Description

Chapter 1: An Arrangement of Convenience

Chapter 2: The Light in the Hallway

Chapter 3: The Sunday Visit

Chapter 4: Ghosts in Frames

Chapter 5: Empty Room

Chapter 6: The Legal Shadows

Epilogue: The Quiet Claim

The Spare Room Pact

Description

When widowed piano teacher Margaret Halberg takes in Delia, a courteous young woman needing a place to stay, it feels simple enough: no guests, shared chores, one month to see how it goes. Margaret wants her routines. Delia brings warmth. And the house, once so still, begins to feel alive again.

But unease creeps in.

Delia cooks, cleans, and listens yet she asks questions no one else would. She lingers in doorways, studies family photos too closely. And behind Margaret’s careful manners, dread grows with every hushed phone call, every pill that goes missing.

As Margaret’s health slips and old memories surface letters left unsent, names never spoken the line between guest and intruder blurs. Delia may not just be renting a room. She may be reclaiming a life that was never hers.

When the past knocks and smiles at the door, is it offering peace or demanding reckoning?

***

Like every tale in Turning Points, this one proves that trust is fragile and nothing is ever what it seems.

Turning Points is a twist-driven series where the unexpected always finds you. From unsettling family dramas to sharp-edged sci-fi and dark comedy, each book delivers a jolt a secret, a reveal that turns the truth upside down. These stories cut across suspense, emotion, and ideas built to linger, written for readers who crave the gasp, the double-take, the moment that shifts everything.

You’ll question what looks certain. You’ll flip back through pages.

Because here, trust is never safe and every ending rewrites the start.

Chapter 1: An Arrangement of Convenience

Margaret

The late afternoon light filtered through yellowing lace curtains, throwing faded shadows across the living room carpet. Margaret sat on the piano bench with her back straight, hands hovering over ivory keys she hadn’t truly touched in weeks. Dust clung to the edges of the lid like quiet judgment.

She played a single note middle C and let it linger in the still air.

Too brittle.

Another note followed. Then silence.

Margaret pulled her hand back into her lap, fingers curling in as if apologizing. The piano, a wedding gift from nearly forty years ago, had once been the center of the home where lullabies were hummed, where children giggled beneath the lid as she practiced. Now, it was just furniture. A monument to what had once been.

The house felt too large since Harold died. It echoed differently now, as though it mourned with her. Each creaking floorboard, each humming vent, spoke in the language of absence.

She stood slowly, joints stiff, and walked to the bay window. Outside, dry leaves skipped across the sidewalk. Across the street, the Simons boy skateboarded without a helmet, defying gravity and parental wisdom in equal measure. Margaret had once scolded him. Now she barely waved.

The letter from the bank sat open on the side table. She didn’t need to look again. The numbers hadn’t changed.

You could sell the house.

But that felt like erasing Harold completely.

The other option the one she'd tried to avoid even considering was scribbled on a sticky note pinned by a magnet to the fridge:

Spare Room – short-term let? Check with church board?

She hadn’t called the board. She hadn’t called anyone. But her fingers had drifted to the community notice board’s contact tab at the grocery store, and somehow, a paper with her neat cursive had made it there.

She didn’t expect anyone to call.

Until someone did.

***

Delia arrived just before sunset.

Margaret had been preparing tea she didn’t want and crackers she didn’t plan to offer. She glanced at the time. Punctuality used to impress her. Now it made her wary.

The doorbell chimed. She paused at the hallway mirror before opening the door, smoothing her cardigan. Her reflection betrayed her eyes tired, mouth too stern.

Delia stood with a suitcase in one hand, a cloth tote in the other, her coat too thin for the wind. She was younger than Margaret had expected. Early thirties, maybe. Dark curls tucked behind ears, green eyes watchful but polite. A smile curved her lips, hesitant but warm.

“Mrs. Halberg? I’m Delia. We spoke... briefly?”

Margaret nodded once. “Come in.”

She stepped aside, noting how quickly the girl’s eyes scanned the interior hallway, shoes, framed photos. Not the glancing curiosity of a guest. More like someone memorizing escape routes.

Delia removed her shoes before being asked.

Margaret led her into the living room. “Sit. Tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

The kettle hissed, a sharp contrast to the hush between them.

From the kitchen doorway, Margaret watched as Delia ran her fingers over the edge of the piano barely touching, as if it might bruise.

“You play?” Margaret asked.

Delia turned, startled. “No. I mean I took lessons. Years ago. I wasn’t any good.”

Margaret handed her the tea, then sat opposite. “Most people aren’t. But it teaches them how to listen.”

Delia smiled again, smaller this time. “That’s true.”

Silence returned. The kind that settled, not uncomfortably, but with weight.

“I live alone,” Margaret said. “Widowed. My son lives upstate. My daughter’s in Vermont. They visit when it’s convenient. I manage, but... the house is large. Quiet. And the taxes don’t wait.”

Delia listened intently, hands wrapped around her cup. “I understand. I lost my job last month. Publishing. They cut half the department. I’ve got some savings, but not enough to sign a lease and stay afloat. I saw your note and figured... short-term would suit us both.”

Margaret studied her face. The girl didn’t flinch under scrutiny.

“You don’t have pets?”

“No.”

“Boyfriends? Guests?”

Delia shook her head. “No. I mostly keep to myself.”

“And you don’t cook meat? I’m vegetarian, but I don’t enforce it.”

“I’m pescatarian, if that’s all right.”