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  Return to Cedar Hill

  The Hills of Burlington

  By Jacie Middlemann

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  RETURN TO CEDAR HILL - A HILLS OF BURLINGTON BOOK

  Copyright © 2012 by Jacie Middlemann

  Excerpt from Retreat to Woodhaven - Hills of Burlington book by Jacie Middlemann copyright © 2012 by Jacie Middlemann

  Cover Art by AM

  This is dedicated to my family…my husband and my children. Without them little would mean anything. And to my mother and her sisters, who knew and taught the meaning of family.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mary felt on the verge of banging her head against the car's headrest. The man sitting next to her was determined to help her but completely oblivious to her mounting frustration. Yet a life time of manners hammered in and stomped down, effectively and automatically kicked in strengthening her efforts to maintain a calm silence. She managed a quiet sigh and as she had for much of the day stared out the window. It was more of a fluke than anything else that she happened to glance at the street sign as the car drove by. Even as the vehicle slowed for the oncoming intersection she struggled to place their location and at the same time pay attention to what the man sitting beside her was saying. Her disappointment at being unable to subtly and politely shift him to where she'd wanted to go, the house she most definitely wanted to look at, had kept her quietly brewing for much of the day. Mary wasn't comfortable with being evasive but for the time being she wanted to keep her personal objectives and the reasons behind them private. She knew his intentions were good but his perception of what she wanted and needed was in large part based on her professional and financial status. Unfortunately there was a huge gulf between that and her very personal goals. She was just about to bust his bubble when it turned out he'd taken away the need to do so without having any idea of having done just that.

  Looking at the house they had just pulled up and stopped in front of, she wondered how in the world she'd missed this. It certainly gave her a way to where she wanted to go. But what about this she thought to herself. She'd spent enough time searching through the area's available real estate to know what was and wasn't on the market. Had she been so focused on the one that she had been blind to the other?

  "....listed yesterday, just confirmed our visit this morning."

  "I'm sorry..." Mary forced herself to look away from the house that was as close to an ancestral home that her family could claim and with enormous effort tuned in to the man who had up to now showed her seemingly every house in the city except the one she wanted to walk through. Yet he had now brought her to this, she thought, shifting her gaze back to the three story Victorian structure before her. It wasn't the house she'd come to make her own, but neither was it one she could simply or easily walk away from.

  Pete Modig wasn't a man who took a lot too personally. Selling real estate could at the best of times be a hit-and-miss proposition. He didn't spend too much time thinking about the worst of times. He'd been there and knew he didn't want to go back. In his mind folks could be picky and choosy, rude and obnoxious, or simply ignore him politely or otherwise. They could be any or all of those things as far as he was concerned, being that they were considering spending a whole lot of money of which he would get a friendly commission out of. It was also his way of thinking that dealing with their moods was part of his job and a fair tradeoff in the end. In this case the woman he was spending the day with wanted to spend far less than he'd like to see. She might end up doing just as she pleased but he was determined to show her as many options as possible. There was a definite sale here so the time spent wouldn't be wasted and while quiet, she'd been good company. Nor would it hurt him in the least to be able to say he'd spent these couple of days with Mary Lane, who was well known but little was known about. It never ceased to amaze him how people chose their realtor. He had no doubt that given time there would be more than one potential client that would come in his direction just to hear whatever he could dish up about the famously reclusive author based on the time however short he'd spent with her. For the moment though he wanted to make a sale and this house was a real treasure.

  "As I was saying, this is a great gem and it just came on the market yesterday. I was on the phone making sure I could get us in here before the ink was dry on the listing contract." He saw the interest and something else in the way she looked at the house that was a far cry from the polite disinterest of every other property he'd shown her so far. "The family has been here for just over fifty years, before that it was in the hands of another local family from the time it was built, so it has been very well cared for. Not something you see in a lot of these historic homes." Pete wished he could put his finger on what it was he saw again when she glanced his way as he spoke. He could usually figure out what most were looking for in their search for the perfect house, but in this case he wasn't certain at all.

  Mary followed him in through the heavy front door, waiting for any sense of familiarity to hit her. When none did she wasn't surprised or disappointed. She'd had no real connection here other than through her mother. While the house held no personal memories for her it was overflowing with those that had been shared with her from a very young age. And it was those shared memories that filled her thoughts as she walked through the stately rooms. She only half listened to the man beside her and while she looked politely at all he directed her to, took note of the details he was intent on pointing out, she knew that later on she would remember little. She battled with a feeling of shock at simply being in the house that had been the foundation of her mother's childhood. She'd purposely avoided this house in all her other visits to Burlington over the years. It had never been hers and the generations of memories that came with it had never called to her as the other seemed to. But they'd been everything to her mother. She'd grown up hearing about this place, the joy of a childhood spent here. And she'd felt the intense grief that had stayed with her mother long after she'd had to leave their home. This house. Mary looked around the huge front room, knew without doubt the exact place where the Christmas tree had been set up every Christmas Eve by her grandparents for the daughters they had so completely cherished. She sighed, knowing deep within her that choices weren't always easy but sometimes they were inevitable. It was actually pretty easy. Easier than some. How could she have one and not the other?

  "The decor isn't the best selling point," Pete offered into the silence, though he personally thought his oldest daughter would love the bright raspberry walls with blue trim for her own room.

  "I imagine they've loved living here considering all the work that's been put into it. I wouldn't expect them to change it. It's their home to live in and enjoy living in until it sells."

  Pete agreed with her one hundred percent. He could count on more than his own two hands the number of people who had redone, redecorated, and who knows what else to their home in an effort to sell it only to later change their minds about selling either because the right offer never came in or they arrived at the conclusion they simply didn't want to leave their home. In those cases it wasn't unusual that most turned around and redecorated the house back to their liking again. "You have to love where you live," he agreed simply then followed her out the front door closing and locking it behind them.

  "Exactly," Mary walked down the short sidewalk towards the car. "I'm going to walk down the street a bit, get a sense of the area."

  "I'm right with you." He fell in beside her. "It's a wonderful n
eighborhood," he felt compelled to add as he followed along keeping up with her when she turned the corner and slowed to eventually come to a stop in front of another house. The 'For Sale' sign stood almost three feet high, no doubt an effort by one of his competitors in the hope it would be more noticeable. In his mind it was simply tacky. Nothing was going to help move this house.

  "I'd like to see this house," Mary said softly. Unlike minutes before, this made her heart race for a different and much more personal reason.

  Pete almost had to ask her to repeat herself, not because he couldn't hear but from the shock of her request. It was a small place, run down was just barely a kind description of its state and even if you could get past that it was about as ugly as the house they'd just walked away from was elegant. But the look on her face kept him from saying anything. He pulled out his phone and within minutes had the okay to show her the place which had been empty for months. The place he would have sworn moments ago would never sell.

  "I haven't been in here for some time," and Lord only knows how much worse it looks now, he thought to himself. "This property has been a rental off and on for years, decades probably, so it's not in the best condition." And that was putting it kindly, he thought not for the first time but kept it to himself.

  "I understand," Mary responded quietly. She also understood his apprehension. This was not the commission he hoped for.

  She walked through the house silently. Made no comments on the mess that had been left in the house which no one had bothered to clean up anywhere along the way. It explained why few bothered showing the house and fewer considered buying it. While she couldn't begin to understand such negligence and inconsideration she was grateful for it. The house was still on the market. That was all that mattered.

  This was the place that held her memories. Each and every room echoed with them until it was almost painful. She stood in the kitchen remembering how it had been. And would be again she promised herself. Promised all those who for a moment in time, in the midst of the silence she could almost hear. All their cherished voices tumbling over each other as they so often did in their efforts to be heard. There had been so much love here.

  On a quiet sigh she turned and opened the door that she knew led to both the basement and the back door. Uncertain she could deal with the basement and all that might not be there, she walked out the door that led to the alley that ran behind the house before curving around and running up to the next street. Standing on the back stoop she looked down to where she could just see the back of the house they had just left. How often had she seen her mother and grandmother do just the same, sometimes together, but so often one or the other of them would stand here alone, standing and looking to where they had come from and could...would never return.

  She sensed more than heard Pete approach from the direction of the kitchen. Turning she saw the carefully guarded expression of a man knowing he had few options to call on to change the course of what was to come.

  "It's not hard to see you're taken with this place." Though for the life of him he couldn't understand why, in his mind it was one short step up from a dump.

  "Yes," she answered simply as she walked through the rest of the small house. The distance from the kitchen door where she had stood looking out at the memories and dreams of those who had come before her to the front door of this home that held her own memories couldn't have measured more than twenty feet. It wasn't large by anyone's standard but held a wealth that couldn't be measured. "I'd like to know what they're asking for this." She knew without asking, knew she'd pay it and more. And knew that sometimes you were handed a gift and only the foolish walked away from that. Mary turned back to Pete, knew she was about to give him one as well. "Come sit out on the front porch steps with me." Now that she was where she wanted to be she felt friendlier towards the man.

  "I can see you're determined on this, but I feel I need to warn you this house may not even pass an inspection which would make it tough to get a mortgage." He sat without dusting off the step before sitting as many others would. But he had three kids at home, none of whom believed in clean like their mother had. He felt no regret that he aligned himself with them on the issue more often than not.

  "That won't be a problem as I'll be paying in cash."

  Pete studied her as she stared quietly down the street that dead-ended into the one they were on. She had stated her intent in a matter-of-fact manner. There was no pretense in her. That much he had learned within hours of meeting her the day before. She preferred the Waffle House to a more upscale place for lunch. There was a five star hotel on the outskirts of town yet she had chosen to stay in the older historic hotel in the center of historic downtown Burlington. It wasn't cheap by any stretch of the imagination but neither did it scream See me! Pete knew she was famous, figured she had money. Probably gobs of it. He just hadn't figured on how much. And after spending the last couple of days with her he'd bet she didn't have a condescending bone in her body. She might have money but she didn't wear it.

  Mary turned to him, amused at his study and could almost imagine his thoughts. "Not what you expected?"

  Pete took a deep breath. "Not exactly." He wasn't certain what he expected but it wasn't this. "I thought you liked the house down the street."

  "I do." She looked at him, silent laughter lighting up her eyes as she watched him intently. "I want it too. Cash." She chuckled softly at his surprise. His jaw didn't drop but his expression was close enough to make up for it. She felt good. This was right, she thought, feeling better than she had in a long time. She had no idea what she was going to do with the big place. But she did know she was going to buy it. "I'm serious Pete. Both places. I don't want to dicker over price. I'll give them what their asking for, and if need be, I'll go up in price if I have to. I don't want to give my money away but neither do I want to lose either of these houses." She ended on a serious note, serious enough for him to understand her objectives were important. They might be personal. They may very well be considered eccentric by some. But they were very, very important. She had always wanted this but now more than any other time in her life she almost felt driven. Nothing could hamper this as it had so many other times in her life.

  Pete studied her quietly gauging her possible reaction before asking. "Do you mind if I ask why?"

  "The family you mentioned who built and lived in the house," she nodded in the direction of the large Victorian down the street though they both knew what she referred to, "prior to the current family who are selling it." At his nod Mary continued. "They were mine." She glanced over her shoulder at the front door of this small house she had run in and out of freely as a child. "And this was where they came when it was no longer theirs." She spoke quietly yet her eyes stayed steady on his and did far more to relay the importance of her plans than her simple words.

  Pete pulled out his phone. His first call was to the realtor of the big Victorian house they'd walked through. Then another call, this one to the realtor of the house they sat on the front steps of. In this one he could hear the shock in the man's voice and easily imagined his expression since it likely mirrored his own. All throughout both calls he relayed questions, terms, and everything else to the woman beside him who answered without any hesitancy, gave all information needed, made a couple of calls of her own. When they were done he looked at his watch. Thirty minutes. He shook his head. It was amazing how quickly money sped up the wheels of what was normally an endless barrage of red-tape. "You'll have keys to this one after the closing tomorrow. The other in a couple of days, they've still got some things to get out of there." He looked at the woman sitting next to him on the steps of the run down home. "You've got yourself two houses."

  

  Sitting in the drab office the next day and despite the discomfort of the Old Burlington Title Company's aging seating provisions Mary took her time with this last signature. The time had dragged on and she had barely moved from where she sat in the small office as the proces
s slowly moved forward. It was a small family owned company and they had been more than pleased to squeeze her in to speed up the closing process for her. She wasn't sure whether it was her name or her money that had achieved the quick turnaround. Pete had assured her it had been no small feat considering the enormous amount of paperwork required for a single closing let alone two.

  And there was one happy man, Mary thought with some amusement. She could almost see how his mind worked, so much like her own son that it wasn't hard to figure. The Marshall Street house might well be his paycheck but the Cedar Street house was a nice little bonus. Pushing the papers back towards the Title Company employee who'd spoken no more than ten words to her over the course of the last couple of hours, she turned to the individual in the room who'd kept a continuous conversation going through the entire, tedious affair.

  "So Pete, how are you going to spend your little bonus?"

  Pete took it in stride, he saw no sense in doing anything else. After days of quiet the lady had opened up once she knew things were on the course she wanted. He could understand that. And while her manner was more of the listen while everyone else did the talking he knew instinctively there was plenty clinking around while she did and that little got past her.

  "My oldest daughter has a birthday coming up, going to be thirteen. Reminds me of it daily, like it would be hard to forget seeing as I've survived those thirteen years by the skin of my teeth at times," he laughed easily at the thought of his oldest child. "Of course she claims it's not been easy being on the other end either."

  Mary listened, noting once again that while he spoke often of his children, she'd yet to hear a word about their mother.

  "She's been going on and on about her bedroom. How she's too old for a little girl's room and while I'm not certain what separates one from the other, I think she'd love something similar to the upstairs corner room we saw in the house on Marshall yesterday."