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"Holy shit," I whispered as I clicked on the listing and started to page through the photos.
"Sky?" Jane asked. "Did you hear me?"
"Janey? I gotta go," I said. "I gotta call a realtor."
~
Five hours later, I was standing with Lucas in front of a gated property in Brookline. It was on the south side of the reservoir, and through the tall iron gates, I could see nothing but green grass and trees that blocked the house I knew was inside.
"Looks like a nice place," Lucas said, although he was inspecting the mostly empty street like a mugger was about to pop out of one of the nicely trimmed hedges bordering the sidewalks. "Looks safe."
I looked at him and smiled. "Yes, it does."
A silver Lexus glided around the corner and pulled into the driveway next to us. The window rolled down, and a woman in a smart red suit popped her head out.
"Are you Miss Chambers?" she asked with a curious glance at Lucas.
I nodded. I'd given my mother's maiden name, thinking it would be better to give an alias to someone I didn't really know. "I am."
She smiled, although I didn't miss the look up and down that clearly wondered about my age. Yes, I'm young. Get over it.
"I'm Shelly from Premier Properties. Well, get in, hon. I'll drive us inside."
I turned to Lucas. "You'll wait here?"
He gave a curt nod. "I'll stay in the car."
After Shelly entered the code for the gates, we drove down a short driveway sheltered in a tunnel of massive oaks. The property wasn't actually as big as it seemed from outside the gates, but it was completely surrounded by a stone wall––not something that I would have looked for otherwise, but which right now felt nicely secure.
"Your...husband didn't want to come inside too?" she asked as she drove.
"Oh no, that's just my bodyguard," I said as I took in the lawn dotted with several more trees. This place was basically a park.
Shelly gave me a look that was even more curious. She started to gesture to the property around us as she steered us down the drive. "So, the house sits on three solid acres. It includes the main house, a tennis court in the back, and a couple of outbuildings that have been converted into two-bedroom cottages.
Dad, I thought. Bubbe. Brandon would be way too excited about the tennis court.
"There a small orchard in the northeast corner with some apple and pear trees, if you like that sort of thing." She looked me up and down again, clearly guessing that I did not. "Four-car garage, and a circular driveway for any, um, social gatherings you might have here."
There was that look again, the one that was clearly doubtful about my ability to enjoy that aspect of a home like this. I rolled my eyes and ignored her. I was going to have to have Margie find me a different realtor.
Shelly parked in the driveway, and we got out to look at the house. It was a gorgeous white colonial with black trim. It had two main stories, a basement, and a white wrap-around porch.
The second she opened the front door, I knew. This wasn't just any house––this was our house. Shelly guided me around a downstairs that was big but not too big, covered with dark wood flooring and matching trim that lined the baseboards, windows, and ceilings. The rooms ran into each other fluidly: family room, sitting room, party-size kitchen, office. A solarium sat off the kitchen, looking out onto the aforementioned orchard, which was now heavy with late summer fruit.
We wandered through the upstairs, which had four bedrooms, including a master suite with a large walk-in closet and an en suite bathroom. The house wasn't as big as any of Brandon's properties, although it was still at least three times the size of my family's house in Brooklyn. The rooms were spacious and open, and there was plenty of space for guests or for my family to live or visit.
I lingered in the solarium after I'd gone through the rest of the house, looking out at the trees off the back patio. I could so easily imagine Brandon and me in this space, sipping on morning tea and coffee, reading the news to each other, making love in the early morning light. Where Bubbe could make her famous dinners or just put her feet up herself while Ana cooked. And maybe, I realized with a twinge, a few smaller feet might run around these floors as well one day.
I turned around to Shelly, who was examining her nails at the kitchen counter, clearly ready to go.
"It's beautiful," I said to her, and she nodded, as if it were obvious. "I think we might take it."
At that, Shelly perked up visibly. "We? You and your..."
"Fiancé," I said, surprised by how the word thrilled me just then.
Shelly's gaze flickered to the ring on my finger, and she straightened. "I see. And you and your fiancé...you'd be able to put down enough for the property?"
