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"That's me," I said, trying to sound cheerful or friendly or at least not psychopathic while I tried to figure out the purpose of wearing a scarf so big it tried repeatedly to take over your head.
"Jessica Betts," she said, sticking a hand through the window and narrowly missing my face with her long nails.
I shook her hand, forcing a smile. "Nice to meet you," I said. "Thanks for your help with all this." She had been helpful, I reminded myself. So I could be friendly for five minutes even though I was pretty sure the blackness inside me contained less friendliness than that.
"Well, we don't usually sell houses sight-unseen over the phone, but I guess we can always make an exception for soccer stars."
"Or people willing to pay cash," I guessed. I’d signed everything in my agent's office back in San Diego, essentially sleepwalking through the process and dropping my signature wherever I’d been directed. I just wanted to move on, get started with this next phase of my life—the phase that didn’t include being featured as the media’s favorite pity-inducing ex-soccer star.
She smiled wider. "Right. There was that. The seller was thrilled."
"I'm sure." I’d pulled the trigger based on location, isolation, and the fact that Singletree, Maryland didn't seem like the kind of town that followed pro soccer. Driving down from DC after arriving from San Diego, I’d figured it was more of a crab or oyster fishing kind of town, maybe a hunting town, a good American football or NASCAR town. Based on my questions to various real estate agents I’d spoken with and the input of my brother, it was not a soccer town. And hopefully that meant anonymity.
"It's funny," Jessica said, looking at me with a little tilt of the head. "We just had another celebrity buy a place here recently. Maybe southern Maryland is going to be the next hot celebrity escape."
I really hoped not. I had heard that Juliet Manchester grew up somewhere near here, and that Ryan McDonnell had recently bought a home nearby. But I definitely didn’t make my decision based on them. More on my brother and my own desire to be isolated and far away from San Diego and the career I had loved. The one I’d been great at. The one I couldn’t have anymore. I doubted they even aired the South Bay Sharks games out here in the middle of nowhere.
"I bet you'd like to go in, lay eyes on the place for real." Jessica's excitement wasn't contagious, but she was right. I wanted to go in.
“Sure.”
"Well step out here and I'll show you how to put in the gate code. Normally you'll just drive right up, but since we're both here..." She stepped back from the car and I swung the door open and then used my hands to help get my left leg out and onto solid ground. My left ankle didn't do much of what I wanted anymore, which was part of the reason I was here in Singletree.
I stood up, ignoring the pain ricocheting through my left leg and limped to where Jessica stood. She was clearly trying not to look surprised by my unsteady gait.
"Just type in the code here," she said, her fingers going through four numbers. "And the gate swings open."
I nodded. "I'll probably just get some kind of swipe access installed.”
"Right," she agreed. "But for now, you've got the code. Five, six, seventy-two."
"Right. Five, seven—"
"No, hon. Five, six, seven, two."
"Got it." I did. not. care.
"Do you?"
"Five, six, seven…" I trailed off. Failing. I was winning at failing lately.
"Want me to write it down?"
"Sure." I limped back to my car.
"Okey dokey," Jessica trilled, heading back to her own car to follow me into the circular drive in front of the huge house.
We parked near a fountain that stood quiet and dry like a sentinel, and I gazed up at my new home. It was stately—I guessed that was the right word. It looked like something one of the founding fathers would have lived in—white and colonial, with columns and a sprawling front porch. The place had wings, more rooms than I could ever possibly use filling the enormous space inside the place. But in my mind, all that mattered was that it was isolated, it was far away from San Diego, and it was mine. Jessica unlocked the massive front door, and we stepped into the huge old house.
"This was originally a plantation house, as I mentioned on the phone," Jessica said, gazing around with clear approval. "And it's been restored and updated, but so many of these wonderful architectural details are original. Once you get it all done up for the holidays, it's going to look just amazing."
"Great." I was ready for her to hand me the keys and get lost. I didn't have much with me to move in, but I did have a bottle of scotch, a camping chair and a sleeping bag, and between those three items I figured my next forty-eight hours were pretty much accounted for. As far as decorating for the holidays, I had no plans for that, so I ignored this last comment.
"I'll just give you the quick tour," she said, heading for a doorway off the entrance hall.
"Ah, actually," I said quickly, my tone halting Jessica's step and causing her to turn, one hand on the giant sunglasses she wore atop her head and another on the ridiculous scarf. "I'm pretty beat from the drive. I think I can manage."
"Oh, of course." Her face fell for a second but she shook her head with a laugh and recovered quickly. "Well then, here you are, Mr. Whitewood." She handed me a large silver key. "And may I be the first to welcome you officially to Singletree."
