Tamara Larson - Open House

“It’s huge!” Lacey exclaimed, angling her head to get a better look. “That is way more than I can handle.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s average size.”

“Are you kidding me? Look how deep it goes.” Lacey pointed. “How would you even keep it clean without help. You’d need a crew.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous. We’ve had way bigger and a cleaning crew was not required.”

“This is a waste of time.”

“Just look then.”

“The more I look at it. The more I want it. This is such a bad idea!” Lacey bit her lip, but moved forward tentatively anyway.

“Just relax. Maybe you’ll like it. Maybe you won’t. There’s only one way to find out and that’s to take the plunge.”

Lacey and her mom were standing on the sidewalk discussing the four large, craftsman-style, row-houses before them. The attractive properties were set far back from the road, and flower beds lined the cobblestone paths leading to each front door. Most importantly to Lacey and Diana Ferguson, there was a large, bright 'Show Home – Open House Today' sign perched on the front lawn.

They had arrived just minutes before the Open House closed at four, so the late March sunshine highlighted the external features of the homes. Each of the four dwellings was painted a different color. As Lacey walked from her car she noticed that all of the front doors had their own distinctive style as well. The row-house on the end with the sign in front was painted a lovely sage green and featured an imposing arched red door with black twining ironwork, like a castle, while the yellow one next to it had a delicate-looking, mostly etched glass door. She couldn’t help being charmed by their individuality. Obviously the builders, The Kingston Brothers, didn't want their homes to resemble the typical cookie-cutter houses seen in most suburban real estate developments.

“Alright, Mom. Let’s go in,’ Lacey said, turning onto the path to the Open House. “But this is our last one today, okay? It’s torture looking at all these places I can’t afford.”

“Lacey, as I’ve told you, many, many times. There’s always room for negotiation. The list price is merely a suggestion,” Diana Ferguson said, stepping around her daughter and leading the way up the path.

“If you say so,” Lacey said doubtfully. “But I can’t help feeling like we’re here under false pretenses. Like I’m pretending that I can afford something like this, when we both know I’d have to take a second job, and possibly sell my body to afford it.”

“The real estate agent has to sit there anyway, dear. And I don’t see any other cars here, do you?” Actually there was a sleek white Mercedes parked in front of Lacey’s car at the curb, and a large, shiny, black pick-up truck in the driveway of the Show Home, but Diana ignored them. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to have us come in an distract them for a few minutes.”

Lacey rolled her eyes, but followed her mother reluctantly. “Okay, but just a quick tour, okay? Let’s not waste their time with a lot of questions, right?”

“Of course not, dear. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Diana grinned at her daughter and Lacey was certain her mom was going to be grilling the real estate agent within seconds of stepping through the door. Lacey loved her quiz-master mom, but she certainly didn’t endear herself to the real estate professionals, who really just wanted her to go away, or better yet, put in an offer and then go away.

Lacey and her mom were seasoned house hunters. They had been looking for a new home for Lacey for the past eight months, without much luck. A recent promotion to Clinical Resource Nurse at The Health Unit where she worked had allowed her the option of finally moving out of her tiny rental apartment. But finding the right place was proving to be much more difficult than she’d anticipated. Everything they looked at was much too small, too old, or way too expensive.

The Show Home they were currently looking at was their third property that day, and it was way above her budget. But she had jogged past the row-houses many times as they were being built, and the quaint style had charmed her. When she spotted the Open House sign on the lawn earlier that day, she couldn’t resist checking them out.

Lacey admired the home’s quaint front porch as she climbed the wide stairs. Mentally she was already seeing the white wicker chair she would place to the left of the bright red door. Trailing behind her mother she imagined they were walking into her house rather than a Show Home. It was just a fantasy, but she really could see herself living in one of these places.

This particular property was in the perfect subdivision, just minutes away from her mom’s house and work. And best of all, the real estate developers had retained many of the mature trees and landscaping that had existed when this area had been army housing. So, it looked like an older, well-established neighborhood but it was gloriously fresh and new, with all the modern design features she had been lusting after from watching the Home and Garden Channel like it was porn.

“Hello,” Diana called as she turned the knob and poked her head in. “Yoo-hoo. Are we too late for the Open House?”

“C’mon in. There’s plenty of time,” A friendly female voice answered from down the hall.

Diana wiggled her eyebrows at Lacey. She was in her element. Looking at real estate was a game to her. Having bought and sold more than fifteen homes over the past thirty years she loved the challenge of negotiating with real estate agents and getting the very best price.

At 55, Diana Ferguson was still slim and attractive. Her blonde hair had faded and she had a tendency to wear high-waisted mom jeans, and oversized sweatshirts, but it was easy to believe she had once been a great beauty. Many people underestimated her because of her sweet appearance and kind nature, but underneath that maternal exterior lurked the heart of a born hardcore negotiator.

Today Diana was thrilled to be checking out homes in this particular neighborhood. She wanted her daughter to live close by and in a safe environment. The quicker Lacey was out of the dumpy apartment she was currently living in, the happier Diana would be.

They left their shoes outside and stepped into the Show Home’s impressive hallway. The sight of beautiful, shiny, hardwood floors and high ceilings greeted them and Lacey gave a gasp of delight when she saw the crystal wall sconces lighting their way toward the kitchen. She pointed at them, and mouthed, “Those are gorgeous,” to her mother. Diana nodded vigorously and they continued into the Great Room. It was always their strategy to appear cool and detached from the properties they looked at, but usually failed miserably at this.

Entering the open concept kitchen and living area, Lacey stopped in her tracks and reached out a hand to touch the object of beauty before her. “I think I just fell in love,” she said over her shoulder to her mother. The two strangers standing at the counter both chuckled at her reaction to the giant island of grey-flecked, white granite she was currently fondling. “Where have you been all my life?” she asked no one in particular. Looking up she smiled at the people watching her molest the kitchen island.

The woman, obviously a real estate agent, held out her hand and introduced herself as Serena Garrison. She was tall, blonde and coolly elegant in her white blouse, black skirt and spiky black stilettos. Lacey reluctantly took one hand off the granite, and returned the handshake, suddenly quite self-conscious about her sloppy jeans, long-sleeved T-shirt and bare feet. She really wished she hadn’t let her best friend’s nine-year-old daughter paint her toe nails in a particularly horrendous shade of acid green. Bella wasn’t terribly careful about restricting the polish to nails, and the result made Lacey’s toes look like she’d dipped them in toxic waste.