Chapter 92

My realtor, Mrs. Pine, is a stout woman in her late fifties. Like me, she was a homemaker for much of her life, though unlike me, she has a supportive husband who encouraged her to find a job once their kids grew up and left the house.

Still, she is personable and reliable. She’s never late, always texts and calls with diligence. With her guidance, I have three house tours lined up for the weekend, and two more in the works for the following week, if these don’t pan out.

“I want my daughters there,” I tell her over the phone during one of my work breaks.

“Understandable,” Mrs. Pine replies. “I think your girls will enjoy many features of these homes. One even has a swing set in the backyard.”

Iris and Violet are getting a little old for swing sets, but I still appreciate Mrs. Pine’s kindness and dedication to finding a home we can all enjoy.

I make the plans, then get back to work.

That weekend, I manage to convince the girls to join me in house hunting. Iris requires a bribe, agreeing only if we can go to one of her favorite stores after to get a gift. Even with that promise, she’s still dragging her feet.

It’s fine. So long as she contributes to the decision at all, even grumpily, I will be happy. I want my new home to feel as much a home for the girls as it is for me.

The first house we look at is only two streets down from where Garnar lives. Same neighborhood, same trees, same parks, and most importantly, same school. It’s smaller than Garnar’s, a three bedroom instead of a five, with only two full baths. But it has a large open concept living room kitchen and a brick fireplace in the corner.

The backyard is the best feature. It’s huge, but totally fenced in.

“Maybe we could get a dog,” I tell the girls. Violet seems interested but Iris, arms crossed, just glowers.

“Dad’s allergic,” Iris says.

That’s what he says, but I have my doubts. I’ve seen him interact with plenty of dogs over the years, without even a sniffle. I’ve been suspecting for a long time he’s just lied about it to avoid having any pets.

“Well, since your father won’t be living here, we could have a dog,” I say.

“Pass,” Iris says.

I look to Mrs. Pine who has been politely smiling nearby. “Maybe we should look at the other houses for the day,” I say.

“Of course,” Mrs. Pine says.

The second house is closer to the school. In this neighborhood, the houses are closer together, with smaller yards, but it seems a good place for families. Lots of kids are out in the yards. This is the house with the swing set.

Violet is eager to play.

Iris takes one look at it and says, “What are we, babies?”

Violet shrinks back then, following her sister’s lead.

I look at Mrs. Pine again.

“Next one?” she asks.

“Please,” I say.

The third and final house of the day sits along the very edge of the school district, but the houses are more spaced out. There’s a bit of a forest along one side.

“The previous owners praise the wildlife here,” Mrs. Pine says. “White-tail deer walk through the yard every morning. And sometimes there are turkeys.”

“Turkeys?” Violet’s eyes light up like Christmas morning. She’s always loved animals. Iris has too, which is why I subtly glance her way.

Looking out toward the trees, Iris is clearly searching for some wildlife.

“Are those daisies?” I ask Mrs. Pine, motioning toward the flowerbeds. I’m not much of a gardener, admittedly, but it could be fun to teach the girls about flowers. Maybe they can each have their own section of the flowerbeds.

“I live not too far from here,” Mrs. Pine says. “This house is always in bloom in the spring.”

I have a good feeling about this house and hope the girls do to. “What do you think, Violet? Iris?”

Violet worries her bottom lip, glancing at her sister. “I… think it’s okay…”

“I hate it,” Iris snaps. Whatever wonder she had, looking out into the forest, is entirely gone now. “I want to go home.”

“Are you sure, Iris? The animals would be fun –” I say, trying to reason.

“I said I hate it, Mom. God.” Iris stomps her way away from me, heading back toward the car.

I give Mrs. Pine an apologetic look. She already has a look of pity waiting for me.

“Maybe we should try those ones next week,” I say.

“Of course,” Mrs. Pine says.

I go into work the next week feeling defeated. I wanted my girls to be part of the process, but it’s seems like Iris is being purposefully difficult. At this rate, I’m going to have to live in Garnar’s house until the girls turn eighteen and move out. But by then, Garnar would likely turn them fully against me.

Maybe I should just pick a house. That last one did seem to interest Iris…

Real estate turns over quickly around here. If I’m going to make an offer, I need to do so quickly.

My indecision has me distracted for most of the morning. Around midday, Kimberly appears, peering down at me over the top of my cubicle.

“Finish what you are doing then come to my office, Esther,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I wasn’t working on much, just an open file that is supposed to be an article due by the end of the day. I’m probably going to have to work through lunch at this rate.

Sighing, I close the file and leaving my cubicle, go into Kimberly’s office.

When she sees me, she gestures for me to sit down.

Trepidation fills me. I imagine I’m about to be scolded for my distraction.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Miles Hamilton’s upcoming campaign speech,” she says, throwing me for a loop. That’s decidedly not what I expected her to say. That’s not even in the same ballpark as what I expected.

“I, uh… expected there to be one soon,” I say.

She gives me a funny look. “Everyone in the office is talking about it.”

“I’ve been kind of out of it this morning,” I admit. Plus, Miles hasn’t said anything to me about it. Although that’s not terribly unusual. We don’t really talk about his work that much, especially the day to day of it.

Kimberly doesn’t seem upset by my ignorance or my distraction today. Instead, she says, “Well, there is a campaign speech and it is today. I can send anyone to cover it, but since you seem to have a connection with Representative Hamilton, I believe you are the best choice.”

I sit up a little straighter, suddenly feeling much more focused. A scoop like this could land me on the front page of the paper, or the top of the website. They might even use my coverage on the television network again.

This could be another solid step forward for my career. And all I have to do is listen to Miles talk for an hour. Then write an article afterwards, of course.

“I’d be happy to,” I say.

Kimberly nods, though her focus stays on me. “Just remember to keep things objective.”

My good feelings sour somewhat.

That’s right. Given my relationship with Miles, I have to work extra hard to prove it won’t affect my work.

“I will,” I promise, and hope I can keep it.