The kids picked out imaginary bedrooms.
“I want the one with the window seat,” Chloe said.
“I want the one by the orange trees,” Caleb said. “So I can catch lizards.”
Renee made spreadsheets. Color-coded. With tabs.
Daniel ran mortgage calculations on his phone. Over and over.
They toured it three separate times.
I didn’t go.
Nobody asked me.
On the third tour, Renee came home with pictures. She showed them at dinner.
The front porch. The swing. The pecan tree.
“Look at this porch,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful? You could sit out here every morning.”
I looked at the picture.
A wide wooden porch. Painted white. With a ceiling fan. And a swing hanging on chains.
And a perfect empty spot on the wall. Right above the swing.
Where a sign would go.
“It’s lovely,” I said.
Nobody heard me.
Then they lost it.
A cash buyer submitted an offer before they could. Twenty thousand over asking. Closed in ten days.
