44. The House On Darling Street #2
Emma gestures across the room at Karen, who’s holding a platter of fresh-baked cookies and conversing with a potential buyer. The woman waves a dismissive hand, and Karen sets the plate on the dining room table.
“Is it too late for plan A?” Emma whispers. “Digging up the time capsule under cover of darkness doesn’t sound like such a bad idea now that we’re standing in the same room with her.”
“It’ll be fine. She’s all bark and no bite.”
She eyes me skeptically. “Are you sure? That’s not what I heard. Even Teddy is a little scared of her.”
“Tedward is scared of his own shadow.”
Jonah snorts, and Emma backhands him across the chest.
He strides into the living room like his feet are made of lead and scans from one side to the other, stopping to stare out the picture window to the front yard. “It’s not what I expected.”
He’s not wrong. I felt more connected to the house when I stood outside it for the first time all those months ago. The inside doesn’t give me the same sentimental feeling I expected.
Each room is staged with boring modern furniture; the walls that were once covered in a gaudy floral wallpaper have been painted greige, and of the character has been sucked out of the home by the previous owners.
I’m well aware of how hypocritical I must come off considering how much I criticized Clio’s apartment, but for all of her quirkiness, at least her place has warmth. It always felt like a home.
Now it’s just a box that used to hold all of my best childhood memories. If I do end up buying the place, it’s going to need a lot of work.
“I don’t like the energy in here,” Emma says. “It needs to be saged immediately.”
We follow her past the kitchen, down a narrow corridor to the side of the house, taking the two small steps down into the sun room. She stops in the corner where our Mom’s favorite wicker chair used to be, and her posture deflates.
Jonah wraps his arm around her and rubs her shoulder. “You ok, squirt?”
I expect her to balk at the use of her childhood nickname, but she doesn’t even flinch. She just lowers her face to the floor and sighs. “I was hoping I’d be able to feel her here.”
I’m having the opposite problem. For me, it’s like she’s still here, only she’s trapped in my memories, stuck forever as the effervescent woman she was before hardship broke our family.
She used to sit in this room and wait for the school bus to pull up in front of the house.
She always had an afternoon snack prepared, and she’d ask how our day was.
“Peanut butter on crackers,” I mutter.
A smile tugs at the corner of Jonah’s lips. “And a glass of chocolate milk made with that powdered shit.”
“Bunny milk.” Emma swipes at an errant tear, acting like it was never there.
It’s hard to reconcile the happy times with how it ended, and I’ve long since stopped trying to make it make sense. Emma doesn’t have as many of those memories to fall back on. Maybe that’s why being here seems to be hitting her harder.
“All three Westons.” Karen’s mild voice carries from the top of the stairs, lacking its usual hostility. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I don’t bother beating around the bush. “How many offers have you had?”
She gets a sour look on her face, demurely folding her hands in front of her. “None that have panned out.”
“I want to put in a formal offer. Ten thousand above asking if we can close quickly.”
She makes a sweeping motion for us to follow her into the kitchen, then she hands me a stack of paperwork with the listing and disclosures. “I would be remiss if I didn’t advise you to get an agent.”
“But?”
“I’ll be frank,” she says. “The sellers are eager to close. And at ten thousand dollars over asking, I can’t in good conscience turn you away.
” She purses her lips and straightens, adjusting the sleeves of her pristine white blouse.
“Look. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I heard what Hayden said at the town meeting.
Thank you for taking care of my son when I couldn’t. ”
I roll up the papers and stuff them into my back pocket, crossing my arms in front of me. I should keep my mouth shut and let bygones be bygones, but Hayden deserves someone to stand up for him. If that means I lose out on the house, at least I’ll know I did the right thing.
“Let’s call a spade a spade. You abandoned your son in the worst moment of his life because you were too worried about your image. I don’t need your thanks, but Hayden deserves an apology. As do Lexi and Clio.”
She rolls her lips together and stares at a spot on the wall. “You’re right. I have a lot to atone for—more than you know. I can start by accepting your offer, if you’re still interested.”
I recognize the look of misery on her face, and though I don’t usually relish anyone else’s discomfort, I’m content to let her stew in it.
I snatch a chocolate chip cookie off the platter. “Where do I sign?”
Karen gives us a full rundown of the offer process, and we agree to meet later in the week to finalize the paperwork, but first I have to stop by the bank.
On the way out, Emma pauses on the sidewalk near my truck. She elbows me as I dig in my pocket for the key fob.
“It must’ve been difficult to let go of something so beautiful,” she whispers.
“You been watching Pretty Woman?” I ask.
She nods toward a figure lingering on the front stoop. “Something like that.”
Clio’s hand trails along the front porch railing as she surveys the house. Her gaze lands on me, and my throat clogs. A restlessness takes hold, and I long to close the distance, but there’s still a massive canyon between us.
I give her a tight smile and a nod, and she returns the smile with one of her own, but it’s not the bright one I’ve been longing to see. She lifts her hand and waves, letting it slowly drop down to her side once more. The ache in my chest grows with each dispassionate gesture.
“Sorry I’m late.” Lexi jogs up the front walkway, drawing Clio’s attention. Pure joy radiates out of her like golden hour at the cliffside, and a rush of determination sweeps through me, fortifying my resolve.
That smile will be mine again, come hell or high water.