Light on Snow by Anita Shreve

Author:Anita Shreve [Shreve, Anita]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Adult
ISBN: 9781435293663
Publisher: Paw Prints 2008-05-29
Published: 2004-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

The Realtor with the scarf and the fur boots showed us three houses the March day we coasted into town. The first was a cape on Strople, not far from Remy’s. A fixer-upper, Mrs. Knight explained. I was horrified by the toilet in the garage, a stained bowl in which an unidentifiable animal had perished. The kitchen had green Formica counters and brown floor tiles, and it seemed unlikely I’d ever be able to eat a meal in there. I expressed my distaste by standing beside the front door and refusing to go upstairs. I needn’t have worried. The house, on one of the town’s most public streets, was too exposed for my father, who was looking for a cave in which to hide himself for years.

The Realtor was nosy. Where were we from? Why were we interested in Shepherd? Did we have relatives in the area? What grade was I in? My father and I were at least united in our silence: we didn’t give her a thing. Had he been able to, my father would have made up the details of a life, simply to shut her up, but his imagination, like his heart, had deserted him.

The second house we visited was called Orchard Hill Farm and stood amid twelve acres of apples. It was a simple but well-kept building with a bright lemon-yellow kitchen that smelled like apples, even in March. I went upstairs and discovered four bedrooms with white curtains at the windows and high mounds of quilts on the beds. I wanted to lie down and go to sleep and wake up in New York.

My father walked through the house as a courtesy only, because next to it was a farm stand. Although we would not sell apples or whatever products had issued from that lemon-yellow kitchen, it might take a year or two before previous customers stopped coming to the house and ringing the bell. I could not imagine my father’s having to go to the door time after time and explain that no, there wouldn’t be any cider this year.

“I have something else,” Mrs. Knight said, “but it’s a bit out of town.”

Magic words to my father. “I’d like to take a look,” he said.

“Quite a long drive off the main road to get to it,” she said, eyeing the Saab and the small trailer. “Might be inconvenient with your daughter in school.”

“I wouldn’t mind having a look,” my father repeated.

“We’ll take my husband’s truck then,” Mrs. Knight decided.

The truck bounced up the drive, skidding when the snow gave way to mud. The cottage was set in a clearing that encompassed a barn as well. I knew as soon as I saw the house that this was the one my father would pick. The cottage was big enough for the two of us and was empty, a fact I knew my father would use to his advantage: we could move in right away. More to the point, it was isolated.

I had no bargaining chips.

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