Allégro

Chapter 04: The Realtor

          After saying a quick goodbye to Liam, I watched as he climbed into his faded red Chevrolet before making my way back into the garage. Pressing the button on the wall, I close the garage door and enter the house.

          Removing the elastic hair tie from my curls, I allowed them to fall freely to my shoulder blades as I crossed the kitchen–stopping in front of the door that led to the dining room. I leaned in, making sure not to make a sound as eavesdropped on the muffle voices on the other side.

          "Everything has been accounted for and necessary precautions have been set in place," explained the blonde haired man. "If you have any more questions, I'll be around."

          The sound of chairs scraping the hardwood floor filled my ears.

          "Thank you, Naoise," I heard my Aunt's melodious voice say. "Really. You've been a big help."

          "I can see myself out," States Naoise.

          Hearing a set of footsteps coming toward me, I quietly step away from the kitchen door and position myself in front of one of the overhead cabinets. I open it and casually reach for a glass just as Aunt Vic steps through the doorway. Her bright eyes land on me, fixing a smile on her face as she starts toward the sink.

          "I've gotta start getting dinner ready. Would you like to help?" She questions, flipping the lever on the tap. I cross the kitchen once more and open the fridge, taking out the lemonade.

          "Sure," I mumble, setting my glass on the counter of the island. Unscrewing the cap, I start to pour the soft yellow liquid into my glass. "So, who's the blonde guy?"

          Setting the container aside, I bring my glass to my lips as I lean against the island. I don't miss the breath Aunt Vic takes as she drags the kitchen rag over her hands. Fixing another smile on her face, she shrugs. "He's a realtor."

          "A realtor," I can't hide the way my brows scrunch together at the news. "You're selling the farm? I thought you loved the farm."

          "I do," Aunt Vic answers, opening the fridge. I watch as she takes out the bunch of broccolini. She sets them on the counter before crossing the fridge–heading for the pantry. "I just think it might be time to figure out next moves."

          "Next moves?" I set my glass down on the island as frustration trades places with my confusion. "What do you mean by next moves?"

          Aunt Vic–now holding two potatoes–closes the pantry. She opens her mouth to answer when Uncle Jax bursts through the kitchen door.

          "Who's up for a movie night?" He questions with a loud clap of his large hands. I try not to show it on my face, but the last thing I want is a movie night. I want to know why Aunt Vic is selling our farm. Uncle Jax points to Aunt Vic–who is now at the counter and has gotten a cutting board out. "Vic, I believe it's your turn to choose."

          "You know what I'm going to choose, Jax."

          "Well, choose again because we aren't watching The Titanic again."

          "I really don't understand why you don't like it," States Aunt Vic as she grabs a knife from the chopping block. "It's a classic."

          "It's three hours long, that's what it is." Uncle Jax replies.

          Aunt Vic feigns a laugh as she hands me the knife handle first. "Ryn, can you start on the potatoes, please."

          Standing from my lean on the counter, I take the knife and start on the potatoes.

***

          Bringing my wrist to my lips, I use my teeth to move my hair tie down my wrist before securing my curls into a rather messy pineapple bun at the top of my head. I let out a tired sigh as I tug the comforter to my full-sized bed back.

          Three whole hours full of romance and tragedy, yet the only thing on my mind the entire time is the fact my Aunt and Uncle have agreed to sell the farm. I grew up here. We have memories here. Doesn't that mean anything?

          After climbing into the center of the bed, I pull the blankets over my legs when there's a soft knock at my bedroom door.   

          "Come in," I announce. I watch as the door opens to reveal Aunt Vic as she pops her head in first. Uncle Jax stops at his usual spot in the doorway as Aunt Vic crosses the room, taking up the empty spot at the foot of my bed.

          "Face washed; teeth brushed?" She questions with a smile. I can't help the soft chuckle the escapes at the childhood question.

          With a playful roll of my eyes, I answer, "Face washed, teeth brushed."

          "Good," Aunt Vic replies. She takes a breath as she shifts uncomfortably. Her smile fades as she crosses her right knee over her left–the sign a serious conversation is about to take place. "You know we love you...right?"

          I could feel myself shrink into my pillows as both my Aunt and Uncle's eyes studied me, waiting for my answer. Hesitantly, I answer, "Yes."

          "And that your Uncle and I would never do anything to put you in harm's way."

          Unsure of where the conversation is heading, I glance between both guardians before slowly replying, "Okay."

          "Vic," Uncle Jax says, his voice taking on more of a warning tone. At this, Aunt Vic takes a breath and stands from her spot at the foot of my bed.

          Pasting on a sweet smile, she says, "It doesn't hurt to check."

          With that, she starts toward the door. Unable to hold my tongue any longer, I sit forward in my blankets.

          "Wait," I call out, earning both my Aunt and Uncle's attention. "You're not really selling the farm, are you?" Aunt Vic and Uncle Jax glance at each other. "It's just...we have memories here. I grew up here and I'd hate to see all of that thrown away when someone else moves in."

          "We can talk more about that tomorrow," Uncle Jax states, reaching for my doorknob. As usual, Aunt Vic slides past Uncle Jax. "Goodnight, Ryn."

          "Goodnight," I reply as Uncle Jax pulls the door closed with a soft click.