Fan Fiction |
by Sensitivegal
Charlene stood in front of the house and examined it. It was old, more than one hundred years old. That much she knew. One section was made out of stone, probably the original house. There was a two-story white-clapboard addition that was nearly as old. The glass in the multipane windows had the swirly look of hand made material, and the shutters looked as if they were actually meant to close and wind off elements. A climbing rose trailed up over the low door of the stone position. It weathered copper bowl filled with water sat at its base, perhaps some art trouvé kind of bird bath or the remnants of a baptismal font.
Sandra was talking with an elderly looking man who stood slightly stooped in the open doorway. He was wearing khaki trousers and one of those old man, V-neck cardigan sweaters. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by Sandra at first, but after hearing her spiel, seemed to perk up considerably. He retreated inside the door, reappearing in a navy-blue roadster cap and accompanied by a large golden retriever. He carried a leash in his mouth. The dog, that is. Dog, leash and man bundled into an aging Volvo Sedan and bumped down the driveway.
Edison signalled for Charlene to come over. ‘Sandra has worked miracles as usual.’
Sandra blushed. ‘I’m just glad the gentleman finally understood that you were interested in seeing the house. Sometimes homeowners can be touchy about having strangers come through. That is why it’s so much easier when you have an appointment,’ Sandra said a tad critically. Only she was looking at Charlene, not Edison. Now it was her fault?
‘I explained it was my entire fault. That I saw the sign from the road,’ Edison said.
Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up, Charlene thought.
‘Anyway, turns out he was an old business partner of my father’s, now retired,’ Edison said.
Charlene gave him a Thank you smile as they stepped over the stone threshold. Edison had to stoop to get through the door. They entered what was a surprisingly large kitchen, original open hearth taking up one wall. A solid wooden table stood in the centre of the room. The boards surrounded a double sink. A window behind looked out over a back terrace and garden.
Sandra looked at Charlene. ‘Any problems with the counters this time?’
‘I think you’ve got the wrong impression about the importance I place on the countertops,’ Charlene replied only half jokingly. ‘In the scheme of things, I think a roof is number one, followed by a floor. Then comes plumbing and lightening. Heat if at all possible. I’m a very baric kind of gal.’
Edison took Charlene’s arm and pulled her beyond Sandra’s reach. She looked as thought she might have a good right hook – Sandra that is. He had no doubt about Charlene. ‘Actually, the owner of the house used to talk to me about cold war diplomacy. He said to excuse the mess.’ Signs of the making of peanut butter sandwich being interrupted were evident on the table. ‘His wife is away visiting their daughter who just had a new baby. That’s why they’re selling to get closer to the grandchildren.’
‘You learned that in the few minutes you talked?’ Charlene asked.
‘No, Sandra did.’
‘A true miracle worker,’ Charlene said with a solemn nod.
Edison pinched her.
‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘I was being sincere.’
‘And I was merely flexing my fingers,’ he whispered back. He looked at Sandra. ‘Why don’t we look at the rest of the house?’
The three of them have examined the four bedrooms upstairs, a formal dining room and the living room less than forty minutes. Once in a while during the tour Sandra would look at Charlene for comments on the things she explains. Charlene would half the time stay behind the two and explore on her own paste.
Edison had made a very few comment as he walked through, and Charlene couldn’t tell if he was intrigued or not. He certainly hadn’t suggested they cut the tour short, for which she was grateful. Frankly, the more she saw of the house, its cosiness, its old material and its imperfections – the more she liked it.
They were drawing to an end of the tour. They stood back at the kitchen. ‘The listing says there’s a full basement. Do you want to check it out?’ Sandra asked.
‘I think so. Why don’t you lead the way?’ Edison offered.
They headed down the stairs and discovered the door to the basement in the dining room. Sandra flicked the light switch and a single bulb turned below. ‘Watch you step,’ she ordered as authoritavely as a nursery school teacher with twenty years experience.
Sandra led the way, and Charlene followed next. The stairs were open, and she had to hold on to the railing as they went down. Edison was close behind.
‘What do you think?’ He touched her on the back of her neck to get her attention. It got her attention all right, she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was good she was holding onto the railing.
What did she think? At the moment she wasn’t able to recite her birth date, let alone a cogent opinion. Why was it that his slightest touch sent her in such a state of emotional flux that her cognitive abilities were reduced to a protoplasmic state?
‘I really want to know what you feel about the house.’ His breath tickled the back of her neck as he bent from the higher treed.
‘What I feel?’ Would Sandra be discreetly professional and turn away her carefully powdered cheek while Charlene threw Edison down on the basement floor and had her way with him? A potential commission was a potential commission after all.
Charlene looked around while Sandra told insights about the basement to Edison. Charlene’s eyes landed on some old snowshoes that were strapped to one wall. Did they get enough snow around here to go snow shoeing? Or maybe the canal froze and you could skate on it in the winter. She wistfully thought of her father and Holland years ago. The memory was immediately subsumed in a more recent one – the session with Edison on the ice only a few weeks ago. She pursed her lips.
‘What do you think?’ Edison repeated, coming up next to her.
Charlene was remembering the kiss under the stands. His closeness was almost unbearable. ‘I don’t know anything about wet basement,’ she confided. Holding on to the railing for more than just balance, she carefully climbed up the stairs.
‘I’ll take it.’
Charlene stopped.
‘What was that?’ ‘What did you say?’ Charlene and Sandra asked at the same time.
‘I said that I’d take it.’
Stunned, Charlene blinked. Then she continued on up with Edison following. They waited in the kitchen for Sandra.
She was delighted for Edison. She was overjoyed. Really she was.
And she was disappointed. For herself.
She liked the house. She even thought of buying it. Don’t be silly. Its better this way, she told herself. If she did buy the house under her name, her father would be on the next plane here and dragging her by the ear.
‘Don’t you want to know the price?’ Sandra flicked off the basement light switch and showed Edison the flyer.
‘That’s more that within my price range even with whatever renovations will be necessary.’
‘Well, if you’re sure, I can have a contract drawn up immediately for your signature.’ Sandra knew when to seize the moment.
‘Fine. You can just take it up with my P.A. You have Nicholas’s number, right?’
‘Of course, but if you’d like to expedite the process, we can stop at my office – ’
‘No, it’ll be fine if you fax the contract to Nicholas. He handles all my finances.’
‘If it’s any interest, I know a number of architects who would be happy to work with you, on the renovations, that is.’
‘That’s very kind. You can give the information to Nicholas, too.’
‘Actually, I happen to have his card in my bag.’ Sandra unsnapped her purse and pulled out a filofax stupped notes.
‘That’s okay. I don’t need the name now,’ Edison replied hastily.
‘No, really, it has to be here somewhere.’ Sandra continued to flip the pages of her date book, oblivious to Edison's disinterest. ‘I’ve worked with him many times…’
Edison looked beseechingly at Charlene.
She gave him a what-do-you-want-me-to-do look.
He pulled on his ear.
She rolled her eyes. Oh great. She was the one who was supposed to save the day, make a sworn enemy of a woman.
‘Ah, here it is.’ Sandra brandished the business card.
Edison tugged his ear again. Violently.
All right. But you owe me one, she mouthed silently.
She took out a small hand-size digital camera out of her purse. ‘Edison, Gillian thought it would be a good idea if I got a shot of you in your new home. She’s really upset she couldn’t make it. She would be delighted if we took some pictures.’ She stepped backward over the kitchen threshold. ‘Why don’t we get a shot of you coming out your new abode, all very homey and cheery like?’
‘What a good idea.’ Edison rushed out the door. A large smile, more a look of relief really, spread across his face.
The relief didn’t last long.
Edison rushed out the door. Clunk. He banged his head soundly – literally – on the heavy wooden cross beam. A direct shot. Really quite impressive. Grabbing his head, he stumbled outside,
‘Oh, no,’ Charlene shouted too late. Much too late.