Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE ACROSS THE STREET
By nine the next morning, my phone was ringing.
“Mr. Hayes, the listing agent has confirmed the property is available,” said Daniel Brooks, my longtime attorney and financial adviser. “The owners are relocating to North Carolina. They're willing to consider a quick closing.”
“Good. Arrange an inspection and make a fair offer.”
“Cash purchase?”
“Yes.”
Daniel paused.
“You haven't bought a personal residence in twenty-three years.”
“I haven't needed one.”
“Is this connected to your son's household?”
I looked through the kitchen window. Vanessa was standing at the counter, criticizing the way I had arranged the breakfast dishes.
“Let's just say I'm reconsidering a few things.”
Daniel understood me well enough not to ask another question.
That afternoon, I toured the property with a local real estate agent. The house was even more beautiful inside than it appeared from the sidewalk. It had four bedrooms, a library with built-in bookshelves, a bright kitchen, and a backyard shaded by old trees.
I imagined Noah reading in the library.
I imagined Emma helping me plant flowers.
I imagined baking pies without worrying that someone would throw them into the garbage.
For the first time, I considered what a home could mean when I wasn't required to earn my place in it.
The agent showed me the final bedroom.
“It's the quietest room in the house,” she explained. “The previous owner used it as an office.”
I stepped toward the window.
From there, I could see Ethan's front porch.
“I'll take it.”
The offer was accepted that evening.
While the lawyers prepared the paperwork, life inside my son's house continued as usual.
At six the following morning, Vanessa knocked on my bedroom door.
“You're late.”
I checked my watch.
It was 5:57.
“Breakfast should be ready by six-thirty,” she continued. “And the garage needs organizing today. Ethan has been asking about it for weeks.”
“I'll see what I can do.”
She folded her arms.
“That's not the attitude I expect from someone living under my roof.”
I studied her face.
“Vanessa, do you remember when you and Ethan bought this house?”
She frowned. “Of course.”
“I remember helping with the moving truck.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“You were helping your son. This is you expecting us to help you.”
I almost laughed at the irony.
Instead, I went downstairs and made breakfast.
Later, while mowing the lawn, I heard Vanessa talking to a friend on the patio.
“Honestly, I don't know how long this arrangement will last,” she said. “Ethan feels guilty, but somebody has to be realistic. Walter doesn't have much going for him now that he's retired.”
Her friend murmured something I couldn't hear.
“Exactly. He can either contribute or find somewhere else to live.”
I shut off the mower.
Vanessa turned.
“Oh, Walter. I didn't realize you were there.”
“You don't need to whisper on my account.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“I was just explaining the situation.”
“I understand.”
I restarted the mower.
That evening, Ethan found me in the garage.
“Dad, Vanessa says you seem upset.”
“Do I?”
“Look, I know she's strict, but she's trying to keep things organized. You have to understand how stressful things are for us.”
I put down the wrench I had been holding.
“Ethan, when you were a boy, did I ever charge you for dinner?”
He frowned.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did I charge you for washing your clothes? For driving you to school? For teaching you to change a tire?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was your kid.”
I nodded slowly.
“And I was your father.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Dad, you're making this personal.”
“It became personal when my son watched his wife tell me I was a freeloader.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“She didn't mean it like that.”
“Then perhaps you should have asked her what she meant.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
Finally, he walked away.
I watched him disappear into the house.
I had expected resistance from Vanessa. I had even anticipated resentment.
What I hadn't expected was how easily Ethan had learned to excuse cruelty when it made his own life more comfortable.
Three days later, Daniel called.
“The purchase is complete,” he said. “The keys are ready. There's one more thing. The previous owners left a number of furniture pieces, and the house is available for immediate occupancy.”
“Excellent.”
“Would you like me to arrange movers?”
“No. I'll take care of that.”
I ended the call and slipped my phone into my pocket.
Then I went upstairs and began packing.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
“What's all this?”
“I'm moving.”
Her expression changed.
“Moving where?”
“Across the street.”
She stared at me as though I had spoken another language.
“What are you talking about?”
I zipped my suitcase.
“I bought the house across the street.”
For several seconds, she didn't move.
Then she laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh. It was the kind people use when they believe someone has embarrassed himself.
“You bought that house?”
“Yes.”
“Walter, that property costs more than a million dollars.”
“I know.”
“With what money?”
I lifted my suitcase.
“My money.”
She stepped into the hallway.
“You're lying.”
I met her gaze.
“You're welcome to check the public property records.”
Then I walked past her.
Behind me, I heard her call Ethan's name.
May you like
For the first time in weeks, I smiled without pretending.
The man they had called a freeloader was finally going home.
