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Wheeler laughed, as if he found Mia’s obvious distrust of him amusing. “I have a buyer who is very interested in acquiring this property,” he said, smiling up at the house. “It’s been vacant for so long we weren’t sure it hadn’t been abandoned.”
One only had to look at the freshly swept verandas and distinct lack of cobwebs clinging to the outside of the house to know that simply wasn’t true. If only Ollie had weeded the pathways as a part of his maintenance routine. Mia hated weeding. “Is that so?”
The realtor’s smile tightened, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say the brevity of her answers was beginning to piss the guy off. His words were definitely sharper when he said, “I assure you, my buyer is willing to pay you a very fair price for the land.”
“Just the land?”
Mia had recently had the property evaluated because she’d wanted to know exactly how much it was going to cost for repairs and renovations. But that also meant she knew approximately what Someday was worth.
Spoiler alert: a fucking lot.
“Million-dollar views,” the official property valuer had said. “Literally.”
The report also told her most of that value was in the land, not the house.
Wheeler didn’t answer her, just handed her a business card with $385,000 scribbled on the back of it. Mia wasn’t sure if she should laugh at his audacity or punch him in the face.
“And this figure is deemed fair for a property like this one?” she asked, trying for all she was worth to sound as ignorant as he obviously thought she was.
“For a one-acre block and a house that needs extensive renovations, yes, that’s a very fair and, may I say, a very serious offer. My buyer is eager to make a deal.”
No shit, Sherlock.But a deal for whom? Not her. Not at that price.
Looking down at the business card again, Mia rolled her lips between her teeth, if only to stop herself from laughing at Wheeler’s extraordinary restraint. How the man was keeping a straight face while trying to pass off this lowball insult as the deal of the century was truly baffling.
Eventually she let out a small sigh and shook her head. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, Mr Wheeler, but the property isn’t for sale.”
He threw her another phony smile. “Everything’s for sale for the right price, Miss… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“No, you didn’t. Good day, Mr Wheeler,” she said, handing him back his business card.
He didn’t take it. “Keep it. In case you have a change of heart. I hope to hear from you soon.”
A change of heart? Seriously? Like she was the heartless one, depriving some cheapskate arsehole the privilege of living in her childhood home? The one she had no intension of selling no matter what it was worth.
She had plans for good ol’ Someday.
Plans she hoped her parents would be proud of.
Mia’s progress up the front stairs ran much more smoothly than the night before, even without the handrail for support. Turned out the walking stick wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Who knew?
Pushing the front door open once she’d unlocked it, however, was still a challenge.
It was the first time she’d been home since her mother’s funeral. The first time she knew for certain Louisa wouldn’t be there to greet her, and not because she was out back in the garden or had gone to the shops to pick up something for dinner.
She was gone.
Forever.
And Mia’s world felt smaller for the loss.
“Come on, Caldwell,” she whispered. “You’ve got this.” Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped through.
The first thing that hit her was a wave of sadness. The second was a barrage of happy memories that swept the sadness aside and propelled her down the wide hallway.
“Hey, Mum. I’m home,” she said, running her hand over the family photographs hanging in the hall. “Hi, Dad,” she added, stopping to stare at a picture of her and the colonel, marching proudly together at an ANZAC Day parade.
The last one her father ever attended.
