“You don’t want me back, Eric. You want my old house on your books, before the spring sales.”
“I won’t argue with you, Doc. Be a fine property for us to shift for ya. The finest. In fact, I’ve got hot buyers on my books for a classic like that right now. We can move this pretty quick for ya if it’s what ya really want.”
He names a price I never would have dreamed. There’ll be plenty here for me, and for Jamison, and for Dee if he’s talking truth. You never can tell with estate agents. Might drag on for years, the place needing repairs. Cracked winter pipes, new fire reg compliance, new roofing, Millie’s white picket fence needing repaints. I know the place. The repairs never let up.
“Let me get back to you in an hour, Eric. I just want to revisit it one last time.”
“Of course, Doc.”
I told Jamison I wouldn’t help him financially, but I can’t say no to my boy. To give him breathing space, I’ve bought his crazy red car from him after all. I need wheels of some sort, and the array of choices is bewildering. Given I’ve finally learned how to use this one and it gets me around town okay, and to Franklin, I might as well stick with it.
It’s twilight. Franklin was never at its best in winter. The town is asleep, apart from the bar. All the action is inside, behind glowing windows, as snow drifts down and smoke spirals up from a few chimneys.
It’s pretty as a picture, but I know most of the people and their diagnoses, their neuroses, their preoccupations and fears. I could never solve all their problems, hard as I tried. Roger Tappy cares for them now. I am free.
The Christmas lights are up on the community tree. Near the top, a yellow one blinks on and off, on and off.
I pull up at my old house. I’ve done it thousands of times. This time, there is no cheery company in the passenger seat of Jamison’s jaunty sportscar, and nobody at all inside the place. Strange. It is Lucy who springs to mind this time, not Millie; Lucy with her bright smile and energy. Lucy with her beautiful warm body snuggled up to mine all that night after she’d trimmed the roses.
Lucy. Am I wrong to be holding a distance from her? I miss her. When I’m done with this business with the old house, I’ll reach out to her. I’d love to see more of Lucy in my life.
My footsteps resound in the old hallway. I was curious to see if anything would pull me back here, to this place where I slept every night for decades. But there are just my own echoes and memories of a life of toil.
The best memories are of my children as they ran to the door to greet me. As they still do, in my new life in the city. They are the future. This house was Millie’s dream, and with Millie gone, it has become irrelevant. Nobody needs me here now.
Millie cared deeply about this house. It’s like saying goodbye all over again.
I wanted to check, but I am resolved.
Back at Eric Nettleford’s we shake hands, I sign a few bits of paper, and I’m out the door and back in the car pointing west again. Farewell, Franklin.
Chapter 43
Lucy
It’s Wednesday again, and the number of potential buyers milling around about to inspect the place has doubled. The good news is that Davey actually agreed to cook sauerkraut and kimchee on Saturday morning, and even darling Amaryllis is in cahoots. She visited Mrs B and got her to promise to give extra-long piano lessons at the exact time of the open houses. She’s going to open all Mrs B’s windows, and ask that students play their scales as loud as possible.
