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Finished with her inspection of the first floor, Alex walked back into the foyer and started up the stairs. She did so without hesitation or fear. Enough time had passed now and those memories, although never eradicated, could be well controlled and kept at bay. At the top of the stairs, she turned and walked down the hallway to her old bedroom. Empty now and with hardwood in lieu of carpet, the room looked smaller than she remembered. She had the same sensation when she walked into Raymond’s room.
Finally, she emerged into the hallway and walked to the edge of her parents’ bedroom. The door was open and she walked inside. Here, too, the walls were freshly painted and the carpet was replaced with immaculate hardwood to match the rest of the home. Alex smiled. The house was perfect.
There was a knock on the front door and Alex headed down the stairs.
“Hi. Alex?” the woman said when Alex opened the door.
“Yes.”
“Tammy Werth.”
“Hi, Tammy,” Alex said to the Realtor. “Come on in.”
Tammy looked around the home and smiled. “The outside is gorgeous and so well maintained. And the interior is just as immaculate. I don’t think the house will be difficult to sell.”
“Really?” Alex asked.
“Not in today’s market, and in this sort of condition. It’s move-in ready. I’ll just take some photos and measurements for the website.”
“Sounds good,” Alex said. “Do your thing and let me know if you need anything else.”
Tammy smiled and got to work. A few minutes later, Alex saw the moving van back into the driveway and two strapping young men emerge. She opened the front door and waved them in.
“Hi,” one of the guys said. “We’re here from On-the-Go Movers.” The guy looked around. “Not much to move, I see.”
“Just one item,” Alex said. “It’s upstairs.”
Alex led the two movers upstairs and pointed to the end of the hallway where the grandfather clock stood.
“That’s it?” the guy asked.
“That’s it.”
“And it’s going to our packaging and shipping facility?”
“Yes,” Alex said. “I provided them with the address where it’s to be shipped.”
The two men removed straps that were wrapped around their shoulders before they approached the grandfather clock. A few minutes later, Alex smiled as she watched the men load the clock into the back of the truck. She imagined what it would look like in her new flat in London. She’d seen photos of the place online and had already decided where the clock would go.
“Just need your signature,” one of the guys said after he closed the back of the truck.
Alex scribbled on the page and handed the clipboard back. The men climbed into the cab, and Alex watched the moving truck pull away.
“All set,” the Realtor said, walking out the front door with her camera strapped around her neck. “I’ll have my crew stake the FOR SALE sign in the front lawn later today, and I’ll formally list the house on our website tonight. I’ll let you know if we get any interest.”
“Thanks,” Alex said.
“I’m betting we have an offer before the end of the week, but I’ll keep you posted.”
Alex stood in the driveway as the Realtor pulled away. She took in the normal sounds of the neighborhood—birds chirping and a lawn mower buzzing from a few houses away—as she sat on the front porch and waited. Fifteen minutes later, a car pulled into the driveway. Alex stood up and watched the car closely.
Eventually, Tracy Carr, the reporter who had been the first on the scene the fateful night her family was killed, climbed out of the car and stared at her from the driveway.
“Funny meeting you here,” Alex said in an attempt to break the ice.
“You knew I recognized you that day at my shoot,” Tracy said as she closed the door and walked up the front path to where Alex stood.
“I did.”
