Page 8 of Persuading Penny
“Boris!”she called out. “Wait! I’m coming!”
*****
As I waited for thetenants to arrive, I walked around. Funny how the house I’d grown up in suddenly looked strange as I saw it through the new tenants’ eyes.
What would they think of the old manor with its high ceilings and rich wood floors, it chandeliers and handsome furniture?
Being American, would they marvel at the beauty of the architecture and antiques, or would they mock the outdated décor?
Copperfield Corner; it was such a fetching name, and it had always pleased me. The property was large enough to allow for games on the lawn and even strolls in the narrow band of forest beyond that.
The house itself was solid and proud, so much as a home can be proud. Its façade welcomed visitors with its blood red front door and large flower pots on either side. Decorative shutters framed every window, and every upstairs window was adorned with white lace sheers.
The sound of tires on the pebbled path told me of the tenants’ arrival and my heart pounded a little faster. I rushed to the front window and peered through the curtain.
A handsome couple in a silver sedan drove up to the door. Only when they were close enough did I spot the two young children in the backseat.
I hurried to the door, prepared to cheerfully greet them, but stopped suddenly as I set my hand on the doorknob. Would that appear too eager? Perhaps it would scare the children. But then, why should that matter? They should be pleased to be so eagerly awaited.
I threw open the door. “Hello,” I called as they stepped out of the car.
“Hi, there,” the man called to me as he opened the car’s back door. A little girl of about eight years old hopped out.
“Daddy. Daddy,” the girl cried out. “There’s a swing in the back. Can I go?”
“Not yet, Georgina. Let’s go look at the house first.”
The woman who’d also gotten out of the car and opened the back door, picked up the younger boy from the backseat. The young family came to me.
“You must be Penny,” the woman said, her smile bright and eager. “I’m Reagan and this is Tommy.”
The little boy of perhaps four or five waved shyly at me then nuzzled into his mother’s neck.
“I’m Richard,” the man said, his hand out for a firm handshake. “And this wildcat is Georgina.”
“Hi!”the little girl said, her eyes wide and ready to take it all in. “Is this your house?”
I nodded and backed away from the door. “Come on in and have a look.”
“Wow,” Georgina let out. “It’s so old.”
I smiled. “Indeed, it is.”
Richard pressed a tight grin. “Sorry about that.”
I waved the comment away.
“Mom,” Georgina shouted, her right foot on the first step of the stairs. “Can I go up to see my room?”
Reagan looked at me for permission.
“It’s your house for the next months. Enjoy.”
“Okay, then,” Reagan said to Georgina. “Let’s go take a look upstairs.”
I turned to Richard. “Would you like to see the main floor?”
He shook his head. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I believe you have a few final documents for me to sign.”
