Bad For Each Other by Kate Hathaway

Author:Kate Hathaway [Hathaway, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-03-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Molly scuffed her toe along the wooden porch floor, surveying the grounds. The lawn, dotted here and there with pockets of shrubs and stands of maple and aspen, sloped away from the house in all directions. She could see only a small portion of the treed, gravel drive that wound from the front yard over and around gentle hills to a gated entrance about a half mile away. Off to the left lay the woods Charlie had mentioned, not so small, and apparently allowed to remain wild, though it was difficult to tell from this distance. At the very edge of the woods she glimpsed the glint of sunshine on water—the pond, stocked with game fish, or so the agent had informed them.

The house itself was not pretentious, or maybe it only seemed dwarfed by its surroundings. With fifteen rooms, it certainly would provide enough space for Tobie to roam. Built just before the turn of the century, it was a warm, redbrick Victorian structure. A little gingerbread, but not too much, graced the wooden porches front and back. A turret, its stained-glass transom windows spangled with sunlight, fronted two stories of the house on the right, and a smallpaned, glass-enclosed room that in another age would have been called a conservatory provided balance off to the left. The roofline was broken by a domed cupola and four chimneys that serviced eight, yes eight, working fireplaces.

Pots of geraniums flanked the porch stairs and hanging baskets of brilliantly hued impatiens swayed at intervals above the railing, adding a homey touch. That, Molly concluded, was her strongest impression of the dwelling. She'd been wrong in her initial estimation. It wasn't a palace. It was a home. They could be a family here.

She glanced over to where Charlie was gamely signing pictures of himself at the agent's request, for her two children, several of their friends, the other agents in her office—and her postman, from the sound of it. Molly smiled to herself. He was doing his best to be gracious, but this wasn't a good day for him.

He'd been up before her, but not by much. She could only sleep through so much of his banging around the apartment. The better part of her morning had been spent listening to the litany of his complaints. The coffee was weak, the cereal stale, his boots were too tight. He couldn't find his blue-striped button-down, and Molly had had the bald-faced effrontery to set a bracelet on top of his hat. When she'd suggested to him that she might drive to this showing, he'd given her a look that would curdle milk. To say the man was testy was putting too fine a point on it. He hadn't slept at all last night.

Charlie appeared to be finished. He handed the woman the pictures and her pen with a smile Molly knew was forced only because she was so familiar with his natural ones. Then he folded his third stick of gum for that

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