Chapter Fourteen
Apart from the occasional Uber or taxi when I’m in the backseat of somebody else’s car, I’m not used to being in a passenger seat. Usually, I’m the one behind the wheel. But today, I’m riding shotgun with Pam Lancaster, my new realtor, as she shows me some prime real estate in Washington’s capital.
“You’re going to love it here,” Pam says enthusiastically, as we approach the L.V. Murrow Bridge. “Especially Mercer Island. From what you’ve told me in emails, it’s the perfect place to raise your niece.”
I feel a tickle at the back of my throat. “Daughter, actually,” I correct her. “She’s used to calling me ‘Uncle Max’ because my late husband was her biological father. She’s autistic, so it’s harder for her to grasp concepts that other kids understand far easier.”
“Oh, that’s so darling,” Pam replies.
“She is,” I nod. “A huge blessing in my life—and one I definitely don’t want to lose.”
As we cross the bridge, I gaze out at Lake Washington. The sun dances on the water, but a pit forms in my stomach. The Baxter family could take her away if the judge deems me unfit. Even though the Supreme Court recently recognized same-sex marriage, society still has a long way to go. Parenting is a fundamental right, regardless of who one loves. If roles were reversed, Brogan wouldn’t let this fear consume him. So why do I? I must be stronger. I need guidance. I need my fucking lawyer to call me back.
“Darlin’, you’re out in left field—everything spiffy?” Pam asks, noticing my distant expression.
Another nod. “Yep, just fine,” I assure her. “Eager to see these houses,” I add, pushing the fear aside.
This isn’t the time to let fear cloud my judgment.
“Well shit, sweet pea,” she chokes playfully. “If I’d have known you were looking for houses , we wouldn’t be traveling so far east of Puget Sound.”
Confusion dances across my face. “That is what we’re doing, right?”
Pam chuckles. “I wouldn’t necessarily call these houses, Max,” she affirms. “More like huge, luxurious boxes with more lights than a Dutch brothel.”
“Oh right,” I grin. “Though to be fair, a motel room in the middle of nowhere has more lights than a brothel.”
“Now that’s the spirit, puddin’,” she laughs. “We’re almost at our first stop, one of my new favorite listings,” she adds excitedly. “I’m talking about a lawn so big that it takes two people all day to mow.”
A huge yard would be perfect for Lily Bean, if it meets her specific needs. Pam’s maroon Prius pulls up to an iron gate guarding a long, winding driveway. As she punches in the gate code, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I shimmy my hand between the seatbelt and my pocket to read the message. It’s a long one. My screen floods with notifications as Melanie pauses and restarts between thoughts.
Shit! What now? I think to myself as Pam speeds up her hybrid past the gate, up the snake-like driveway. The sight of a large house doesn’t shock me. My, well, mine and Lily’s home in Denver is already half this size.
We step out of the car onto the clean slab of cement that leads into a multi-car garage. Pam circles around to my side and points at my phone. “Sweet tart, that better be out to take pictures, because I guarantee you won’t see a sexier bitch than this on today’s tour,” she affirms, striding towards the front entrance.
As she climbs the steps, she turns back over her shoulder. “This is the cat’s pajamas of Seattle homes. Even Bill Gates himself may live in an expensive home, but I can assure you it’s not this magnificent.”
Clicking the screen off, I slide my phone back into my pocket. I barely have time to glance at Melanie’s lengthy rambles. All I can make out amidst Pam’s real estate chatter is something about the Baxter’s custody case. I push the thought away for now, because I don’t even want to think about losing Lily. This is supposed to be a happy day for me, God damn it. I want the perfect home for us. A place where she can roam safely, without fear of overstimulation. This estate’s size seems promising. Princess Peach would never feel claustrophobic here.
Pam swings open the door, and it moves gently, like the wooden doors leading into Jurassic Park. Only without the promise of blood and gore—I hope. Did anyone die here? Is this why it’s on the market? Shit. Why is the owner motivated to sell? Yet, as we enter the grand foyer, my gut instinct corrects the dark thoughts swarming my mind. This seems like it could be the right place. I’m not superstitious, but I know how to listen to my gut most of the time. And according to Oprah, our gut is always right. This home feels more than just welcoming. It’s almost as if I’ve been here before, only I can’t exactly place when.
“Well, step on it, puddin’,” she ushers me inside.
I take in the atmosphere and all its grandeur. Polished marble floors, crystal chandeliers hanging from a vaulted ceiling. This feels like a fairytale. Or perhaps that scene in “The Greatest Showman” where Hugh Jackman reveals his family’s new sizeable estate. This feels like a home I could live in for years, at least until I send Lily off to college. Then, plus some, I suppose.
My gaping mouth oscillates from one shoulder to the other as I follow Pam through a long hallway that opens into a grand dining room. It’s a space of elegant proportions, reserved for elaborate dinner parties and holidays. With Christmas just around the corner, I can almost see Lily here, her laughter bouncing from one marble wall to another. The scent of Melanie’s famous sugar cookies wafts from the nearby kitchen, and I imagine myself standing there, a warm latte in hand, watching Lily’s joy unfold.
A wave of longing washes over me. I want to make this vision a reality. This house feels like more than just a house. It feels like a safe haven, a place where Lily and I can heal and grow together. It’s a far cry from the ghosts of our Denver abode, where every footstep carries a memory of Brogan. The thought of leaving my old life behind brings a cacophony of emotions. Sadness, anticipation, and perhaps a little hope. Tears well up in my eyes, but I know they’re not salted rivers of sorrow. There’s a flicker of joy in them, too. This is a chance for our fresh start, a brand-new chapter in our lives.
At this precise moment, I’m filled with a sense of expectation and anticipation. I trust my lawyer will ensure a smooth transition for Lily and me. And as for this McMansion, it calls to me like a lighthouse in Bell Harbor. It’s more than just a picture of beauty and magnificence. This estate offers the promise of a brighter future, a place where laughter will fill the corridors and love will bloom in every room.