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“Congratulations.” Tim the real estate agent smiles as he hands over the keys. “It’s all yours.”
“Thank you.” I open the door, and we walk into the foyer. My parents and Liam are here to help celebrate this momentous occasion.
He looks around the old, dilapidated house. “Have fun renovating.”
“I will.” I beam. “Renovator’s delight, remember?”
Tim chuckles at his own sales pitch. “I remember.”
My grandmother, God rest her beautiful soul, left me and my brother a large inheritance each, and with my savings I have somehow snagged a house in the best neighborhood in Half Moon Bay.
This is my ideal suburb, but it was never even close to my price bracket. Somehow—and I’m guessing it was Grandma organizing this in heaven—the stars aligned.
I received her inheritance, and in the first week I was looking, this house came up.
It was a deceased’s estate with no beneficiaries, so the will trustee made the call that it would be sold to the first person who made an offer, any offer. By some miracle, I was the first to look at it, I fell in love, and I was the first to make an offer.
I nearly fainted when they accepted it.
It’s a total dump, but it’s on a beautiful street. Well, it’s not really a street. It’s a cul-de-sac, Kingston Lane.
“Bye,” Tim says as he walks down the front steps. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks again. Bye.”
I do a little jig on the spot in excitement. “Can you believe this?” I gasp.
My mom kisses me. “We’re so happy for you, Jules.” She grabs her phone from her bag. “Hold up your keys—I need a photo.” I hold up my keys and smile goofily as my mom snaps away.
“It’s bittersweet. I wish Gran was here.”
“She’s watching.” Mom smiles. “I know she is.”
“The worst house on the best street.” My dad smiles. “You’ve bitten off a lot, that’s for sure.”
“I’m up to the challenge.” I smile as I look around. “There’s no rush. I have forever to do it.”
The old house is clapboard and two stories. It’s white with a green tin roof. It has a wraparound veranda and an overgrown yard. It’s going to be a lot of hard work to bring it back to its original glory.
“And when does your puppy arrive?” Mom asks.
I do a little dance on the spot. “I pick him up from the shelter tomorrow. He’s actually the most exciting thing about finally buying a house. I can have my own dog. And he’s not a puppy, Mom. Remember, I adopted an older dog.”
“But I thought you wanted a puppy.”
“I did. But when I got there, he looked so sad and timid. He’s the one for me.”
“What are you going to call him?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll work it out together once he gets here.”
“What time does the moving truck arrive?” Dad asks.
I glance at my watch. “We have three hours.”
Mom walks into the kitchen. “Let’s get cleaning.”
It’s 11:00 p.m., and after the longest day in history, I trudge up the stairs.
