The Blossom Sisters by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General, Family Life, Fiction
ISBN: 9780758286710
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-04-30T11:28:17+00:00

Chapter 14

GUS TYPED THE ADDRESS OF THE PROPERTY WHERE MARSHA WAS waiting for him into the GPS. If there was no traffic, he should make the meeting right on time. He felt anxious for some reason. Buying a house could certainly account for the feeling. Then he thought about his day with his family and all the seniors he’d been helping. No sense lying to himself—he couldn’t wait to get back to Blossom Farm to finish his scheduling. He was sure it was all going to work out. So sure, he started to whistle softly, something he always did when he felt happy.

After the storm, today had been a perfect spring day. Bright sunshine, and a warm seventy-one degrees. The air was filled with the sound of chain saws, which would have the town back to normal within a few days. Several more days of weather like today, and the ground would dry out. Just a little while ago, he’d heard the weatherman say there was no rain in the forecast for the next few days. Who could ask for anything more?

The monotone voice on the GPS informed Gus that he was less than an eighth of a mile from his destination.

Gus’s first thought was that it was a pretty neighborhood, with full-grown trees lining the streets. He noticed that there were sidewalks on which kids could skateboard and roller-skate. He closed his eyes for a second and envisioned himself and Barney when they were ten years old, skating down the sidewalk or riding their bikes. He hoped it was a neighborhood with kids. The houses were all pink brick, with fireplace chimneys jutting upward. Cozy for the cold Virginia winters.

The generic voice on the GPS said he had arrived at his destination. And he had. He pulled his car alongside Marsha’s in the two-car driveway. She was waiting for him, leaning against her car, reading a folder in her hands. They hugged each other. “Where’s Wilson? Doesn’t he get a vote?”

“He’s at my grandmother’s. Long story. I like this,” Gus said, looking around. “The neighborhood is established, and it looks like everyone takes care of their property. No wooden or chain-link fences, no cracks and weeds in the driveway. Looks freshly painted.”

“Trust me, Gus, this is the house for you. The owner is abroad; he’s a freelance journalist. He lived here for almost fifteen years, then he got reassigned and rented it out. Renters do not take care of property even when they leave a security deposit. We put it on the market to sell. No takers. The economy hit, and now he just wants to unload it. He had the agency contract the work out, so the house is in pristine condition—new carpeting, new appliances, freshly painted, inside and out. If I had the money, I’d buy it myself, but I have two kids in college and an ex who is fighting me in court so he doesn’t have to help pay for college. Oh, you said you needed a fence in the back.

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