The Deal Breaker (Book II)

Chapter Sixteen - Six Months of Solitude

                                                                           ~Part Two~

“Change, like sunshine, can be a friend or a foe, a blessing or a curse, a dawn or a dusk.”

-William Arthur Ward

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                                                                    Chapter Sixteen

                                                               Six Months of Solitude

                                                                             2010

My eyes burned as the dust began to settle around us, but I didn’t rub my eyes or react to it. Instead I stepped forward, causing the old, possibly rotting, floorboards to creak and strain at my weight. The dust settled then, making the room perfectly clear and exposing every disaster this room held. The wallpaper was torn and falling, the floors were a safety hazard, the ceiling was possibly leaking, and there were stains everywhere. My eyes drifted towards the windows, surprisingly intact, and the boards somewhat covering them up to keep thieves away. Why would they even put boards up? It’s not like it’s the city, and the nearest neighbor was about a mile down the road. Plus, this place had nothing remotely valuable to steal.

I ran my finger over the banister, gathering dust on the tip of my pointer finger. This place hasn’t been touched in years.

“As you can see, this place does need a bit of work,” the realtor stated in her anxious voice I learned was normal for her. “But it has a wonderful amount of potential! Just look at the amount of windows! Lots of light, open spaces. It has two decent sized rooms, and a bathroom. All located upstairs, but we can’t go up there right now because the stairs need some work…”

The stairs definitely needed work, but some was an understatement. Three steps were missing, and I was becoming slightly fearful of checking the basement for someone who might have fallen to their death. The entire house was old and crumbling, yet, somehow, I saw past it. Maybe it was the appealing price tag it had on it.

“You said there is a barn?” I asked, brushing the dirt off onto my worn jeans.

Maggie Anderson, my realtor, began tapping her ink pen against her large thigh as she stepped towards the door. I could tell she was nervous about even entering this place, let alone explore the house. She dab some sweat from her forehead, causing her makeup to come off in a spot above her right eye. “Not a barn, but a decent shed. The last person who lived here kept tools out there. They left them after moving.”

Decent, I thought in amusement. It was her favorite word, I guess. And I’m pretty certain the last person who lived here had died here. How else would it explain the hole in the stairs?

“I can show you the shed if you want…?”

I shook my head and walked around the stairs and into the nasty kitchen that was last updated in the seventies. The whole first floor of the house was small and narrow, yet the ceilings were tall and open. Everything felt open, but that might have something to do with the fact I’ve been living in the back of a truck for five months now.

“And this is ten acres?” I questioned, poking at a tiny hole in the wall.

“Roughly. Most of the land around here is used for farming.”