Frank Buys a House
Frank sat at his desk and looked forward to his guilty pleasure, a long email from Lily Stanton. She had become a regular correspondent ever since their lunch at Burgers ’n Burst. He felt free to enjoy their exchanges because of the distance. An email relationship was uncomplicated by the usual tensions between a man and a woman, dating, then deciding whether it’s worth it to sleep together and see what develops. He had done his share of that kind of relationship; and it could be exhausting, especially when there was no true spark, the kind he had with Marni. Before the flame became dying embers.
He could save Lily’s email for after work, but doesn’t everyone deserve a break?
“Greetings from the Mad House. Once again I shall reiterate my main goal in life, getting out of here. Things are crazier than usual and you know how crazy that is. Dad’s lawyer has informed him it could take years for his case to even come to court. Dad wants to accept some sort of plea deal right now so he can get this all over with and start again. But his case is all tied up with several others, whom he might have to testify against as part of the plea deal. However, if they really are Russian gangsters, would he live to testify? I’m left out of the legal loop but these are things to consider.
“Meanwhile, Dad is asking what should he do, just sit around and do nothing? Fortunately, Dad’s lawyer has gotten the judge and prosecutor to agree that Dad and Mom need money to live on; and Dad is now thinking of going back to work, which is a good thing. But so far he has scoffed at suggestions I have made because they don’t pay six figures, and he tells us that he’ll only accept six figures. Yes, he is delusional. Who would hire him with his history? There are a lot of job openings, but he refuses to apply to anything he thinks is demeaning. I even suggested, since he was so good at selling, that a call center where he’s anonymous might be a path forward. Meanwhile, we have to keep him away from our computers in case he falls by the wayside again, via online gambling. Of course, there’s always the library with their free computers. Maybe you should check in with your mother and ask if she ever sees my father at a computer terminal. I have no faith in him at all, especially if he’s depending on prison to break his gambling habit.
“And now to Mom. You’ll be glad to hear she is no longer in danger of becoming a wino. She now has a purpose. She’s planning to be the Martha Stewart of Scarsdale. The kitchen has become her work space. She has taken to baking. I told her $5 cupcakes are no longer in fashion, but she’s making the attempt anyway. Also refrigerated toll house cookies stuffed with cream in the middle. I won’t mention her scones. Mom assumes just because her foremothers almost came over on the Mayflower, she could make perfect scones. Actually, her grandparents were French Canadian on one side, Scottish on the other. I don’t know how close that puts us to the Pilgrims, and did the Pilgrims actually make scones? I thought they made johnny cakes.
“In any case, Mom rents a table at the farmer’s market and calls her products ‘Straight from Ellie’s Kitchen.’ She thought Elinor would be too formal. Needless to say, there are plenty of desserts to go around after market days. But at least she’s trying. I wish she had some skill other than being socially prominent.
“Speaking about socially prominent, your wicked step-mother, whom everyone thought would leave, has decided to stick around and become a real estate agent. At least our scandal kicked hers to the back pages. So maybe no-one will recall her various Girl Scout knots? Sorry. Was that too crude?
“Anyway, with both my parents being so involved, I figure now’s a good time to leave. Unlike Sloan, I don’t feel I can go too far, but I do need my own psychic space. I mean, I don’t blame my brother. He’s in the middle of getting his Ph.D. and has lots of research to write up. But I suppose it’s a daughter’s role in life not to completely abandon ye olde and zany folks.
“Now, what’s with you. Still slogging away? Your best friend ever, Lily.”
Frank smiled at the childish ending to Lily’s email. Can one learn to love via emails? No, impossible. He couldn’t love Lily. She was too young, five years, plus Eden would kill him. And yet, there was something sweet and vulnerable, but also tough and capable about her.
What’s with him? Well, he bought a house. In Massachusetts, crazy because of the taxes, but he fell in love with it. On the weekends, happy to be away from work, he liked to take his car out of the garage and just drive, out into open spaces, which for him meant north. He’d take the back roads and just wander, loved the farmlands and the trees—and the isolation.
On one of his wanderings, he had spotted this house for sale. It looked as if it had a fruit garden on the side of it and a sort of barn in back. He got the number of the realtor and called from the roadside. She came out within the hour to show him around. It was owned by a widow, who now wanted to move into an assistant living establishment in Springfield, near her friends.
Nothing much had been done to the house for years, Frank could see that. The floors creaked, the kitchen was a museum, but there was a side porch with the sun streaming in and a back yard that was heavily shaded by oaks and maples. The side garden was still producing fruit. Riley would love it. She was the gardener in the family. But Frank could learn. The outbuilding he had spotted was a workshop. Something for a crafty person, which he was not, but maybe some day he would be?
It was an impulsive purchase and could turn out to be a money pit. But he hired his own inspector, a housing contractor from the area who had a good reputation and whom Frank might use for renovations. It just needed updating, the contractor told him.
So Frank now had a weekend getaway, a weekday getaway too, if he wanted it, as it was only forty minutes to his work in Hartford. But he’d keep his apartment for now.
He wondered. Lily needed a place of refuge. What would happen if he offered her a chance to stay at his farm house?