while it was not the first choice for either of them, it had no major drawbacks to which the other could object.
The real estate agent was the one who’d suggested they look at the property, and it was she who suggested another walk-through when, after a week, and despite her numerous high-pressure phone calls, it became obvious that they were no closer to choosing a house than they had been the first day. “I’ve been in this business for over ten years,” she said, “and I’m pretty good at matching home to homeowner. Let me take you through the house one more time. I think, looking at it with fresh eyes, you might see some very positive attributes that you may have overlooked before.”
So, Saturday morning, Julian, Claire and the kids all piled into the van to meet the realtor at the house.
“I still like the one in DesertView,” Claire said.
“And I like the one with the fruit trees. But it can’t hurt to check things out again. In fact, maybe we should look at all three of them today and see what we think. Besides, we don’t have to decide right now. If we can’t agree on one of these, we can just wait a month or so. I’m sure there’ll be more homes up for sale.”
It was only a five-minute drive, but Megan still brought along her iPod, and her earbuds were in before Julian even put the van into gear.
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror as he drove down the street. It occurred to him that while this generation had access to an almost unlimited amount of music over the Internet, they were much more narrowly focused in their interests than had been the kids of his day—or even his parents’ day. When his mom and dad had been growing up, as they’d never failed to tell him, Top 40 radio played everything from rock to country to easy listening. They’d been exposed to the Beatles and Ray Charles and Glen Campbell and Neil Diamond, all on the same station. When Julian was a teenager, he and his friends had not only listened to music on radio, records, CDs and mix tapes borrowed from their peers, but they’d also been able to raid their parents’ and grandparents’ stacks of old albums and discover for themselves gems from the past. Now that avenue of discovery was completely cut off, for the simple reason that kids today did not have devices on which to play records or, in some cases, even CDs. The music could not be physically translated from those media, and that surreptitious passing down of knowledge—done behind parents’ backs, which made it somehow more acceptable than when adults tried to turn kids on to a song themselves—no longer occurred.
Next to Megan, James could have been playing with his DS—but he wasn’t. Instead, he stared happily out the window, and Julian smiled. As far as he was concerned, the boy was turning out okay.
Julian drove down the street. The Willet kid was skateboarding at the end of the block, and he grinned at the van as it passed, no doubt planning to head back and play in their driveway as soon as they were gone, probably with his punk friends.
Julian was going to be glad to get out of this neighborhood.
There was an accident blocking traffic on Carson Street, so they took the highway and got off two exits down. Now that he thought about it, this house did have the most convenient location of the three. And the neighborhood was nice, with well-maintained homes and people who had probably lived there forever. He could not recall seeing any teenagers or skateboards.
Claire seemed to be giving the house more serious consideration as well. “It has a good yard, as I recall. And I like the fireplace in the living room.” She glanced over at him. “What do you think?”
They drove slowly up Old Main. “Good location,” Julian pointed out as they drove past the brick building that housed Claire’s law office. “You’d be within walking distance of work.”
“It’s closer to Grandma and Grandpa’s, too,” James said.
“That’s true.”
Claire was nodding in agreement, and she did not look displeased. Julian glanced around at the downtown businesses. Most people in Jardine, themselves included, bought their groceries at Safeway and shopped for everything else at The Store. The downtown district was just an area they drove through in order to reach those locations. But as his gaze took in the used-book store, the children’s clothing boutique, the sandwich shop, the ice- cream parlor, the plumbing supply store, the thrift shop, the tax preparer’s office, he could see himself taking a break from work and walking down here during the day, maybe meeting Claire for lunch. The idea appealed to him.
They drove past City Hall and around a park before turning onto Rainey Street. Two blocks down, they saw their realtor, Gillette Skousen, waiting next to the For Sale sign in front of the house. Julian pulled into the driveway and parked, bracing himself. Gillette gave off a distinct Up With People vibe. Blond and perky, with white teeth and perfectly smooth skin, she reminded him of a Disneyland tour guide, circa 1970. He hadn’t liked her before and still didn’t like her now, but she seemed competent and was a friend of Claire’s sister, so he put aside his personal antipathy and got out of the van to meet her.
She was already on her way, smiling, hand extended. He shook her hand—he always felt weird shaking women’s hands—as did Claire, and Gillette held forth the clipboard she was carrying. “I have some great news! The owners have agreed to come down an extra twenty-five hundred. I talked to them last night, and if you decide to take it today, they’ll drop the price. How perfect is that?” Her smile grew brighter. “What say we take a look around?”
As before, they started off outside. Like many older houses, particularly the ones in this neighborhood, it had a big yard. Julian liked that. The home itself was set back from the street, and a shade tree grew in the center of the green lawn. A tire swing hung from one of the tree’s lower branches, and off to the side was a birdbath in which two sparrows were loudly fighting. In the backyard, the realtor reminded them, were several blooming rosebushes, as well as tall hedges that gave them privacy from the neighbors on either side. An alley ran behind the property, and the garage opened onto both the alley in back and the driveway in front. An adjacent storage shed provided enough room for a lawn mower, garbage cans and gardening implements, leaving the garage itself free for other uses. “You could even convert it into a rec room,” Gillette had suggested last time.
Inside, the house seemed nicer than Julian remembered. There’d still been a few pieces of leftover furniture on their previous visit, as well as assorted trash and debris, but all that was gone and the place was now clean and empty. He had a much better sense of what the rooms looked like. The living room, he saw, was nearly twice the size of the one in their current house, with a hardwood floor, and a picture window that looked out on the tree in the front yard.
And Claire was right—the fireplace was impressive. Made of flagstone, it was built into the east wall and was large enough to accommodate a midsize tree stump. To either side of the hearth were rock benches, and above was a mantel, also rock. On the opposite end of the living room was the dining room and, beyond that, the kitchen. Homey, with a small, windowed breakfast nook that protruded into the backyard, the kitchen had been recently remodeled and featured plenty of cupboard space as well as a state-of-the-art gas stove.
Claire and the kids remained with the realtor, who took them outside on a reprise tour of the backyard, while Julian left to explore the upper floor of the house by himself. It, too, was bigger than he remembered, and though the master bedroom was downstairs, there were three more bedrooms up here, as well as a full-size bathroom. One of the rooms, the one in the middle, was perfect for his office. It had a large window overlooking the backyard, was agreeably square and functional, and had multiple electrical outlets and plenty of wall space. Opening the narrow but deep closet, then walking around the room, he could envision where his computer desk would go, and his printer table, and his filing cabinets and his bookcase.
He could get a lot of work done here. Unlike his current office, it was far away from the family room with all of its attendant noise and commotion. He might actually have some privacy.
And he
He also needed to finish the project as quickly as possible so he could get started on upgrading the interactive Web site of a midsize municipality, which had a looming deadline in less than a month.
Peeking out the window, Julian saw Gillette leading Claire and the kids from the garage onto the lawn. If he recalled correctly, the garage had a sort of attic, an A-shaped storage area accessed by a wooden ladder attached to one of the walls. James probably loved that. Just as he probably loved the basement in the house. Although it was very unusual for this area, the home had a small cellar beneath the kitchen. James had recently discovered James Bond and
