The Haunted

Claire and the kids remained with the realtor, who took them outside on a reprise tour of the backyard, while Julian left to explore the upper floor of the house by himself. It, too, was bigger than he remembered, and though the master bedroom was downstairs, there were three more bedrooms up here, as well as a full-size bathroom. One of the rooms, the one in the middle, was perfect for his office. It had a large window overlooking the backyard, was agreeably square and functional, and had multiple electrical outlets and plenty of wall space. Opening the narrow but deep closet, then walking around the room, he could envision where his computer desk would go, and his printer table, and his filing cabinets and his bookcase.

He could get a lot of work done here. Unlike his current office, it was far away from the family room with all of its attendant noise and commotion. He might actually have some privacy.

And he needed to get a lot of work done. Right now, he was reconfiguring a Web site for the music publishing company Darwin-Huxley, and if he wanted to keep that account, he’d better get busy. House hunting had been consuming far too much of his time over the past week, and the actual process of moving would take up even more time. The sooner he could put this all behind him, the better.

He also needed to finish the project as quickly as possible so he could get started on upgrading the interactive Web site of a midsize municipality, which had a looming deadline in less than a month.

Peeking out the window, Julian saw Gillette leading Claire and the kids from the garage onto the lawn. If he recalled correctly, the garage had a sort of attic, an A-shaped storage area accessed by a wooden ladder attached to one of the walls. James probably loved that. Just as he probably loved the basement in the house. Although it was very unusual for this area, the home had a small cellar beneath the kitchen. James had recently discovered James Bond and The Prisoner and a whole host of 1960s spy shows that some cable channel had been running, and was in a phase where he was fascinated by secret hideouts and underground rooms.

Through the window, Julian watched his family head back into the house, and he met them at the top of the stairs a few moments later when they came up to see the second story. Together, they accompanied the realtor through an airy corner room that Megan immediately claimed as her own, through his potential office, and through the square-walled room overlooking the front lawn that was next to the bathroom and that James announced would be perfect for his bedroom.

Julian was not one of those decisive guys who made split-second decisions on matters of major importance. He was a worrier and an incrementalist, and he liked to weigh all options, liked to study and think and play devil’s advocate with himself before eventually choosing a course of action. Claire was probably the one who would have to pull the trigger on this and make the final decision. Still, he could tell that the house was not only a good bargain but a great place to live. There might be minor problems or inconveniences, small flaws that he’d probably fret over incessantly given the chance, but if they bought the house today and moved in tomorrow, he was sure he could be happy living here.

Downstairs, he walked through the backyard and garage with Gillette while Claire and the kids noisily went through the house yet again.

“You know,” the realtor said as they stepped onto the rear patio, “I am so thankful I got this listing. I knew it was going on the market, but RE/MAX had it before, you know? So I figured the owners would want to go the same way again. But I was blessed that they chose me to sell their home.”

“It’s a nice house,” he agreed.

“I’m blessed,” she repeated.

Julian tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face, though already it felt strained. He was uncomfortable with people who used the word blessed as part of their everyday speech. The implication was that God was intervening in the minutiae of their lives, hanging around and helping them with their jobs or children or household chores as though He had nothing better to do.

Maybe it was true, Julian thought wryly. Maybe that was why there were wars and murders and earthquakes and hurricanes: God was too busy helping real estate agents find new listings to deal with those other issues.

He and Claire asked whether they could look again at the other two houses, and Gillette took them all in her car, leaving the van behind in the driveway. This time, the McMansion seemed gaudy and overly indulgent even to Claire, and Julian had to admit that while his first choice did have a lot of land, the house itself was really too small for their needs. Returning to the home on Rainey Street, Julian felt like Goldilocks. One house was too big, one was too small, but this one was just right.

“So,” Gillette said brightly. “Are you ready to get the paperwork started?”