A Short Story

Judy straightened her white ironed shirt and pulled a pale blue sweater out of her bureau. She tied the arms around her neck in an attempt to look casual. She wiped the kitchen counter with her hand on her way through to the front door. Threw the empty wine bottle in the recycling bin. I think I was supposed to bake cookies to make it smell like someone might actually want to live in this hell hole. She tried to look like she wouldn’t give away the house to the next vagrant who passed by if they had a ball point pen so that she could sign it away. 

Lillian’s sporty white coupe sat in the drive. She had tried to sound aloof on the phone. But this was it. This was the house. Window boxes. White marble countertops. Space for entertaining. An extra room for an office for Derek. The photos had sealed the deal. He’ll have to love it. She could make him love it. But she was desperate to conceal her excitement. Her panic. She knocked.

Judy put on her game face and opened the door. “Please come in,” said Judy. “Make yourself at home. It was Lillian, right?” Dear God, you’re so young. Please be an heiress somehow. Please want it. Please. She forced an open smile.

They shook hands and Lillian’s eyes began to scan the house in poorly hidden wonder. It was everything she wanted.