Page 137 of Ten Day Affair
"I think I am, Ar."
There. I said it.
"Sam." Her voice goes gentle, the way it does whenshe's about to talk me off a ledge. "Are you sure? This house is your mom."
"No, it's not. Mom wasn't alive when I bought it. I just made it her to have something to cling to. She would be much more a part of a program like that in Atlanta. And if I could get it up and running, in her honor, it would make me closer to her than any four walls could."
I pull my knees up to my chest, suddenly feeling smaller against the vastness of the ocean.
"Wow. I mean, that's beautiful, but is that practical? I love your heart, and that you want to do that, but I don't think I would be a good friend if I didn't press you on this."
"I've thought a lot about it. I'm not completely certain, but everything keeps pointing me back to this."
"What do these houses in here go for? Around four million?"
"Around that. Maybe more with the market the way it is." I look at her directly.
"Shit."
"I'd have enough to invest, keep a cushion, and finally do something that feels like mine. With the Evelyn Taylor wing going away, this is the best way to keep her spirit alive."
Arden sets her glass down and leans forward.
"I'm going to need some time to absorb this."
I watch a pelican dive into the waves, coming up with a fish writhing in its beak.
"What am I holding onto? It's a big house for one person, and it was never about the real estate anyway. Plus, I live six hundred miles away. I'm probably never going to come back here to live."
The sun dips lower, painting everything in shades ofcoral and gold. Stars start to blink into view, scattered across the darkening sky like tiny promises.
Arden refills our glasses, her movements thoughtful.
"Before you sign anything, I want you to make sure you're sure you can let it go?"
I lift my glass toward the sea, feeling the weight of the decision settling in my chest.
"I will. Pinky promise."
My Apple Watch vibrates on my wrist. It's a local number.
"Hold that thought."
I step back inside, bare feet brushing over the cool hardwood floors, following the sound of my buzzing phone on the kitchen counter. Through the glass doors, I see Arden refilling our wine glasses.
The call display shows a local number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Dr. Taylor? It's Janet Reeves with Premier Properties."
The voice is polished but warm. She's professional with just enough of a local lilt to make it personal. I straighten unconsciously, even though no one can see me.
"Hi, Janet. Thanks for calling."
"I ran the numbers like you asked. Wanted to talk through them before our meeting. I think we can list it at $4.2. Easily. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you had multiple offers."
I lean against the counter. My hand grips the edge like it might steady me. "That high?"
