Page 96 of Hearts on the Mend

“Five. Some of it was sold off about twenty years ago. Part of the abutting conservation now.”

“Good property for horses,” she says.

“I think so.”

“Do you ride?”

“I used to.”

We quickly tour the rest of the kitchen, then the butler’s pantry and Nolan’s old room. It’s empty now. Void of anything but memories I wish I could forget. I moved out the bed frame and painted over the room last week with Izzy and Sloane after a little too much wine.

I show her the updated bath and bring her upstairs. The whole time, she’s taking notes, nodding along, before I show her the barn and the field across the road.

“Well, I think you have a great home here, but I have to be honest.” She spins, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “You can list it, but I have a client who would pay in cash for a property like this.”

“In cash?”

“Yes. This is close to the ocean, untouched really. And the house is old, you know, but the rest of the property could make a great subdivision.”

Subdivision? Do I want to sell something I worked so hard to fix, just to have it torn down?

“So your client is a developer?”

“It’s just an option. If that’s not what you had in mind, we can list it. It wouldn’t be half as much as you would get with the developer. Housing is such a big issue in the state since the pandemic. The demand is insane.” She tilts her head. “You did good work. Good cosmetic updates, but it’s still an old house that comes with more upkeep. It’s going to need a new roof within a few years, insulation should be sprayed in to help with heating and cooling costs, and the older vinyl windows need to be replaced. There are certainly buyers for that too.”

She keeps talking, but I stop listening.

My focus is drawn instead to the last of the snow pulling away from the fence line, the vibrant green underneath waking up after sleeping all winter. Clusters of daffodils peek around the stone walls, planted either by my aunt or her parents. Maybe my great-grandparents.

In another month, when mud season is finished, the piles of leaves leftover from fall will need to be raked away to make room for the budding perennial garden desperate for attention. I think how nice it would be to hear the chorus of bugs in the summer on a hot, humid night, the sound of Ruby’s giggle as she races across the lawn to play on a swing set. There was always such magic here in the summer, and Ruby is never going to experience that if I sell this place. She’ll never ride horses on the beach.

I spent so much of this past winter running toward what needed to be done that I couldn’t see I already had it.

Here. This.

I push past the small, hopeful burst in my chest. “Well, I’ll think it over,” I say finally. “Thank you so much for meeting with me, Linda. I hope you have a great day.”

Ruby races out before the car has even left the bottom of the driveway. “I don’t think I like her,” she whispers.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want someone here who is grumpy.”

“She wouldn’t be living here, honey. She was gonna help me sell the house. We have to list it, which means we tell people it’s for sale and people can come walk through it and decide if they want to buy it.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Why?”

“Why are we going to sell the house? I like it, even if there is a ghost. And we have lots of friends here now. We have to do it all over again somewhere else?”

“Yeah, that was the idea.”

“You’re silly, Mom.”

She’s not wrong. Not sure how I didn’t see it until today.

“Come on inside. I have a quick phone call to make, and then we’ll do something fun this afternoon.”