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Home Sweet Home

We have been searching for our perfect house for months now. My husband and I and our two elderly cats have been living in our tiny two-bedroom apartment for over ten years. We finally made the decision that we needed to make the change. I would love to buy a house with character, an older home, but one that has been loved and maintained. Oh, it must have a wrap-around porch with a swing.

Oh, and it has to have a yard with a big tree in it. I can’t take another day off looking out my living room window and seeing a parking lot and the trash dumpster. I would love to create my own rose garden. I’ll plant a grapevine on the wrought iron fence or even a picket fence. Can you imagine walking out to the garden at the end of August and picking luscious grapes from my own vine?

Our realtor sent me some pictures of homes to look over in my email this morning. None of them stood out until I looked at the last house on her list. And I couldn’t believe it. It’s almost as if

Photo by Bob Culver

Victorian House

the house was made for us. It checked every box I had made for my perfect house. I can’t believe how perfect it is.

It is in the part of Pennsylvania that we want to live in, country, but only about a half-hour from Philadelphia. It’s situated on a country lane lined with trees that look like they’re at least fifty years old. There are about twenty houses on the street, not too close to each other so that everyone knows your business, but not so far that you never see your neighbors. I can imagine how beautiful it will be at Christmas time. With all the old trees decorated by the falling snowflakes. And our very own Christmas tree in our front yard.

As soon as I saw this listing, I knew I better call our realtor Katherine and ask her to make an appointment asap to see this house. Today if possible. I would die if someone else got there before we did and bought it from under us. Just die, seriously die from a broken heart.

Anyway, I called her, and she said she would try and make an appointment to see the house after lunch today at about one o’clock. I was so excited I couldn’t eat anything. I even forgot to feed my cats. But they started crying non-stop and reminded me. They’ll probably be mad at me for the rest of the day. I admit it. I have spoiled my cats. They are our children. I know people hate when you say you love your pets like they’re your children, but it’s true. I love them like they were my little furry kids. 

My husband Jeff should be home any minute. He tends to be late, so I told him our appointment was a half-hour earlier than it was. He said he’ll grab a Big Mac and eat it on the way home. So, we won’t be late. I called and reminded him a couple of times. He is somewhat forgetful. He won’t admit it, but he is. The second time I called, he let his phone go to voicemail. I left him a message.

Oh, here he comes now. I’m so excited I could dance a jig. If we get this house, I will never want another thing. Well, that’s not strictly true. We will have to get some more furniture because the house is 2400 square feet, and our apartment is 950 square feet.

And then we will have to get yard tools and a lawnmower. I will agree to take care of the yard and garden. That’s how much I want this house. And I hate summer; I have to avoid sunburn. I’m not twenty anymore. Well, we will work all these little details out, no doubt. Jeff wants to move out of this apartment as much as I do. We will have a big bedroom, and he can have his own office, and I will finally have my own space where I can do my artwork and sew and listen to my kind of music with earphones, of course. It is absolutely a dream come true.

Oh, here he is, and I think I see Sharon, our realtor pulling her car up behind his. Yeah!!!

“Hi, honey, I’m home.” 

I run to the door and practically jump into his arms. I’m so excited. “Oh, Jeff, I feel so good about this house. I know this is the one we have been dreaming about all these years. Oh, here comes Sharon. Do you want to make a pit stop in the bathroom before we go? That will give me time to talk to Sharon, so she will understand how much we want to get this house.”

“Alright, Kathleen, but please do not get your heart set on this house before we even see it. We both know that the pictures of these houses for sale can be quite deceiving.”

“What, are you out of your mind, Jeff? This is going to be our house.  I feel it deep in my bones. This is it. Don’t try to bring me down. For once, let me be happy. Why are you always so negative? You never let me have one moment of happiness?”

“Kathleen, all I want for you is to be happy and not heartbroken. Let’s go see this house and then talk to Sharon about it before you go off the deep end.”

I was beginning to get upset with Jeff’s defeatist attitude. But I decided to try and calm down. I take some deep breaths and slowly let them out, as my Yoga instructor taught me to do when I get angry or upset. I have to admit I’m a little high-strung. But hey, can’t I be excited about something once in a while? 

Jeff let Sharon in our front door, and as usual, she looked like she was ready for anything. She has that determined look on her face. Her lips are pursed, and her eyes are narrow. I think I hear her teeth grinding. I have a feeling she would like nothing better than for us to buy a house so she will be done with us. It’s been a long six months. And we have seen nearly every home in our price range and a few out of our price range. Which I know is a waste of time. But I do so love looking at these beautiful, old homes.

“Hello, people, Kathleen, Jeff, are we ready to go? I have a feeling that this is going to be your lucky day. Let’s be on our way, shall we? Do you want to go in my car or follow me?”

“Jeff, what do you think?”

“I think we should go in our car; that way, Sharon doesn’t have to drive us back here. She can go home or go to her office without having to drive out here to our apartment.”

“Alright then, let’s be on our way. Here’s the address, just in case you lose sight of my car. You can get to the house by yourself, and I’ll wait outside for you until you guys show up.”

Sharon smiles, I guess she means it to be a smile, but it’s more like a grimace. She’s ready for us to buy a house. So, she can be done with us. And so, we all walk out the front door and into our respective vehicles. We take Jeff’s car since, even though his air conditioner is broken. And he hasn’t had time to get it fixed. 

We follow Sharon without any difficulty because she drives like she’s about a hundred years old. However, I think she is younger than I am. Probably about thirty years old. She doesn’t seem to enjoy her job. She is competent, but somehow her personality is strident and somewhat abrasive. But she has spent so much time trying to help us find that perfect house I don’t have the heart to look for another realtor. Anyway, today is the day, and I’m certain that this will be our house.

After about a half-hour, I see Sharon putting her right turn signal on, and I realize we are on the street where our house is located. All the houses are different from one another. But still, there is a sense that they all belong together. The houses are well taken care of; the yards are well-kept. There aren’t any people outside right now, but that’s because it’s a workday for most of them. Anyway, it looks like a quiet neighborhood. And after living in an apartment for ten years and hearing every fight, kids running around screaming their lungs out all day and night. We can use some peace.

I’m staring at the house from inside the car I hear a sudden knocking on my window, and I almost jump out of my skin. I was so startled. It’s Sharon trying to get my attention. I laughed and mouthed “sorry” to her. And she steps back while I open the door. “Oh, sorry, Sharon, I guess I was daydreaming. Let’s go, Jeff.”

“I was waiting for you, Kathleen.”

Jeff always has to have the last word. I ignore his remark and get out of the car. “Oh, Sharon, it looks just like the picture on the internet. I love it already.”

As we walk up the slate sidewalk, I admire the garden in the front yard. There’s a grapevine growing on the wrought iron fence. It is knurled and twisted and growing in both directions on the fence. It looks like it has been there a hundred years. On the sideyard, there is a fig tree. And a rose garden with vintage roses. There are slate pathways on either side of the house. The yard is not huge, but it is perfection. There is a wraparound porch with Victorian furniture on it and on either sidelight that stand about eight feet tall and look as if they came from a museum. I begin to feel a little faint. I’m so enamored with this house I can hardly speak.

“Well, what do you think, Kathleen?”

“What do I think? I think that I’m in love with this house. I can’t imagine why it is still on the market.”

“Well, the only thing I read was that the family that lived here moved out suddenly and put it on the market. They moved to upstate New York. And they haven’t been back here since. Their realtor is handling the whole thing. Come on, I have the key to the lockbox; let’s take a look. “

“What do you think, Jeff?”

“I don’t know what to think; there must be some kind of catch.”

“Ok, we can go in now, I had a little trouble with the lockbox, and then the key wouldn’t turn in the lock.”

Then we walk through the entryway. I can’t believe what’s before my eyes. To the left of the door is a stairway and a living room to the right. The floors are all hardwood and in perfect shape. There’s a double door to the dining room with a swinging door into the kitchen. A crystal chandelier hangs from the dining room ceiling. As I look around, I realize all the rooms are furnished. “Sharon, all the furniture is still here. Does the house come furnished? It looks like it’s all authentic Victorian?”

“Yes, it is being sold with all the furniture. They’re anxious to sell. But The owners are not going to go down in the price. But it is within your budget. Wait until you see the rest of the house. It is unbelievably beautiful.”

Jeff and I look at each other with disbelief on our faces. I break out in a cold sweat. I was waiting for the bad news about the house. I know there has to be something not quite right for this house to be in our price range. And it was furnished with all these gorgeous authentic antiques. I was willing to make an offer at their asking price. No questions asked, but I know Jeff wouldn’t give in that easily.

As we head up the stairs, Sharon tells us there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms plus the half bath downstairs. Each room is more beautiful than the next. The main bedroom is enormous. It has a ten-foot ceiling with two chandeliers. There’s a king-size bed in the room and two dressers. l  look into the bathroom, I thought I noticed a woman slipping into the second bedroom. “Oh, Sharon, there’s someone in the house. I just saw a young girl slip into that second bedroom.”

“What? No, there can’t be, I have the only key to the house. So, no one else could get in here unless they broke in. Let’s take a look, shall we? Jeff looks at me like I have lost my mind. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“Well, I did, at least I think I did.”

We all walk down the hall and peek into the room.  There’s a child-sized four-poster bed and a stunning-looking dresser.  There are Victorian sconces on either side of the bed on the side walls. They had crystals hanging from them. The light from the windows plays off of them and is reflected on the pale blue walls. Sharon and Jeff are looking out the windows. And I hear Jeff say, Oh, my god, there’s a balcony over there outside the main bedroom. How did I miss that?  I open the closet and look in, and there’re empty hangers on the clothes pole. I step out of the closet and go over to the dresser and pull open the top drawer. I see a small piece of paper. I pick it up, and I read it. It says, “This is our house. We will never leave.”

It’s written in somewhat childish handwriting. It’s signed, Phoebe. The paper looks handmade. It’s embossed with roses and daffodils and has a family crest on it. And the handwriting is written in a stylized script that I remember my great-grandmother used to write in when I was a young child.

Just as I’m about to show the note to Sharon and Jeff, the closet door opens slightly by itself. And a small face peers out. She looks about ten years old but is wearing Victorian clothes that look brand new. She puts her finger up to her lips as if to tell me not to disclose her presence and then steps back into the closet and silently closes the door. I put the note into my pocket. I decided that this was going to be my little secret. Besides, sometimes I get so lonesome when Jeff has to work long hours and goes on all his business trips.

“Sharon says, let’s go downstairs and look at the kitchen and the backyard. There is a two-car garage and a small pond back there. But I warn you, it’s small but stunning.”

As we walk down the long hall towards the winding staircase, I hear Jeff peppering Sharon with questions about the heating system and the roof. I walk slowly and look back down the hall, and I see the little girl and a woman wearing a long dress with a full skirt and a mustache man wearing a Victorian suit. They’re looking at me. So, I smile and wave, and they smile and wave back. I realize that they’re going to be part of my family now. But I think it is going to be my little secret. It’s clear that Jeff and Sharon can’t see them.

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