Shame courses through me and I wonder how long I'll feel this way like I’m teetering on the edge of good enough. I wish I was enough right now for him.
I blink back tears and close the front door. The Christmas tree is left forgotten on the front porch. I hear Shirley walking back into the living room and I wipe my eyes quickly and spin to face her, knowing that I can't change what just happened. That is a part of our story now whether we like it or not.
I’ll just have to figure out a way to explain. I’m scared though because when he left the house, it didn’t look like he was very interested in an explanation.
“Well, that was an unexpected visit,” Shirley says primly, holding the phone she's been using to snap pictures of the house.
“Right. Sorry about that. Uh, Filson and I, well, he's been here helping me fix up the house.”
“Well, he's done a fantastic job. It looks in tip-top shape. I'm sure we can find a buyer in no time.”
“Well, that's great too because honestly, I have to sell by New Year’s Day.”
“I really wish you’d called sooner,” Shirley says.
I wanted to; I think. But then I would come home and see Filson on his back, under the kitchen counter fixing the pipes and I would have this deep longing for things to stay just like this. Forever. The only reason I called Shirley this morning was that the bank left a threatening voicemail.
I know my clock is ticking. And living in denial isn’t going to help anyone.
“That means we're gonna need a cash offer. Someone who's willing to close quickly. Ideally, we’ll find a buyer who isn't going to require an inspection.”
“There are buyers who won't request an inspection?” I ask doubtfully.
“Well, yes. Snowy Valley is a tourist town. And this house is on Jingle Bell Lane. And sure, it’s a little rundown, but Filson did a lot of improvements. And the gingerbread trim on the front of the house along with the big porch… well, it makes it just a peach of a place. I think I can get this on the market and get it right back off.”
Even if we can't close by New Year’s, I think if everything is in writing that maybe the bank might be forgiving. Or maybe that's just hopeful thinking.
“Do you think I can get a fair price for the place?” I ask.
“Sadly, the market has been down the last year and a half or so, which isn't ideal but if you want to sell quickly, we’re going to have to list this place aggressively.”
My heart sinks. “Meaning low?”
She nods. “I think with what you owe on it and the market value, you can still come out ahead with a few thousand dollars.”
A few thousand dollars won’t be enough to float the soup kitchen. But it will cover a month or two of rent while I find a new job.
“Right. Well, thanks, Shirley. The goal here is to sell and sell soon.”
“Can I ask…” she says clearly being nosy, “why do you want to sell? This place is such a gem. You could hold onto it and in a few years, it might be worth a pretty penny.”
I swallow. “I told you I didn't want to talk about that. I've just decided to sell and it needs to happen immediately. I'm not going to be picky as far as the buyer is concerned.”
The hope is that I can pay off all the existing debts and hopefully have a little nest egg even if it's a meager one.
“In that case, I’ll get back to the office and start pulling this all together. Since Christmas is only a few days away, I suggest you enjoy yourself. But if there’s a buyer who wants a showing, do you think you can accommodate that?”
“Sure, that's no problem.” I bite my bottom lip, not wanting to cry in front of this woman. But the reality of the situation is hitting me hard. I’m really going to have to say goodbye to Granny’s home.
“Hopefully we'll have good news soon. I'll send you the link once this is online,” Shirley tells me as I walk her to the door.
Once she is gone, I slowly walk around the big house where I grew up. The round kitchen table, the staircase that leads to the bedrooms. I naïvely imagined myself raising a family here. But now I know I don’t care where I live as long as it is with Filson. And I don’t know if that is possible anymore.
The look in Filson’s eyes slew me and I wish more than anything, I hadn't betrayed his trust.
I head into the kitchen to make a pot of tea, thinking maybe something warm might lift my spirits. Just as the kettle whistles, someone knocks on the door. For a moment, I have a hopeful crazy thought that it's Filson changing his mind. That he’s back for me.
But as I reach the door and pull it open, I see it's not the man who I love. It's Annabelle, Isaiah, and Jody.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“We came to see you,” Jody says, giving me a quick hug.
“I was just making tea. Do you want some?”
“Sure, that sounds great,” they say, and we head into the kitchen.
“I really wasn't expecting company. Who's serving soup?”
“It's the afternoon break,” Jody explains,
“Wow, the day is flying by.” I almost began to explain the Filson and real estate situation, but I decide against it. The last thing Filson would want is more people involved in our drama. Luckily, I'm not required to entertain my friends because Isaiah clears his throat.
“We’ve come here on a mission,” he says.
“I don't know anything about it,” Annabelle says. “I was walking over to see how you're doing after last night and ran into these two. Looks like everybody is dying to talk to you today.”
Isaiah speaks up, “Here's the thing, Maple, we love you. We do. We've been working together for a few months, and Jody and I had been working with your granny a lot longer and I know the food soup kitchen was your granny's baby, but it's kind of ours too.”
Jody nods. “Yeah, we're pretty invested.”
“I know you love the place, but like, we built the place from the ground up. If your granny would have just told us she was funding the entire enterprise, we could have helped with the situation. But,” Isaiah says with a smile, “it's never too late.”
I pour us all cups of English breakfast tea and set them on the table with cream and sugar. “What do you mean never too late?” I ask tremulously.
“We mean,” he says, turning his computer to face me, “we are planning a New Year's Eve fundraiser.”
Jody jumps in. “You said the place is going to close its doors by New Year’s Day. Well, let's make that difficult for the city.”
Isaiah must sense my skepticism. “Look, we're having a gala and all you have to do is show up and smile. Say a few nice words and hope that people will leave donations.”
“You think a fundraiser will save the food kitchen?”
“I think it's a great idea,” Annabelle says with a frown. “Not that I knew you were losing the food kitchen.”
“There’s a lot I haven't told you,” I say to her, biting my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “I just wish you'd open up a little bit more.”