Selling this house has been on my mind for so long now, but today, for some reason, it feels more real.
The man from Buck Realty stepping out of the car is the one who will hopefully handle the sale. Why is my heart hammering against my ribcage?
He’s dressed in a sharp suit, the kind that screams “I know money,” and it rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know why.
His polished leather shoes crunch against the gravel as he approaches, his eyes already scanning the house like it’s something he can’t wait to be rid of.
“Ms. Fletcher?” he says, checking me off a list.
I force a smile, trying not to let my irritation show. “That’s me.”
My voice comes out cool, even though my insides feel anything but.
He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”
He gestures toward the house as an afterthought, his eyes already darting from one small imperfection to the next.
I follow him inside, my shoes tapping softly against floorboards that have seen far better days.
He takes a quick glance around the living room, a curl of distaste tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Needs work,” he mutters. “But you knew that already, right?”
I nod, trying to hold back the frustration that’s starting to bubble up. This man’s got no tact. No respect for the years this house has seen, the life that’s been lived within its walls.
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he’s moving on, walking through the rooms, and calculating their worth in seconds. “Plumbing’s outdated, the roof’s probably leaking. You’ll be lucky if anyone’s interested.”
My stomach clenches, the words striking a nerve I hadn’t realized was so raw.
“It’s not just about the condition,” I say, the words coming out sharp. “This house has a history.”
He stops mid-step, glancing back at me. There’s no warmth in his eyes, just a cold, businesslike calculation.
“History doesn’t sell, lady. People want convenience. And in a place like Colter Creek? You need something better than history.”
Heat rises in my chest, and I bite my lip to keep from saying something I’ll regret. I knew I didn’t like him from the first moment I saw him.
“I’m aware of the issues,” I say, trying to stay calm. “But this house means something to me. It’s where my grandfather lived, where I grew up. So, if you’re only here to put down the place, we can call it a day.”
His eyes narrow, his lips tightening slightly in irritation. “Look, I’m just doing my job. You’ve got a good location, butthat’s about it. People aren’t going to pay a premium for a fixer-upper.”
I inhale sharply, swallowing down the frustration that’s threatening to boil over. “I want to do thisright.”
He glances at me, unimpressed. “You might want to reconsider your asking price. Otherwise, you’ll be stuck with this place for a lot longer than you’d like.”
I force a smile, though I’m grinding my teeth behind it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He stands there, not moving, like he’s waiting for a thank-you card. When I don’t offer one, he sighs. “Perhaps you should think it over and get back to me.”
I nod, about two seconds away from tossing him out the door like an unwanted Craigslist ad.
“I think that’s for the best,” I say, with the politeness of someone about to fire someone, but with a smile that says, “You’re not as charming as you think.”
He doesn’t say another word before he heads for the door like he’s running away from a bad date.
I watch him leave, feeling a strange mixture of frustration and relief. He was a bad taste in my mouth that refuses to go away.
Great. Now I get to figure out if I should lower my expectations or just sell my soul to get this house off my hands.
