“Oh. Yeah, that was me, I guess.”
“Hello. I’m Mrs. Easterly. I apologize for my daughters’ behavior.”
I glanced at Mr. Easterly as he moved toward a dining table set between the kitchen and living space. “It’s nice to meet you,” I greeted as I held out my hand. She quickly shook it but held my grasp as she asked, “Are you single, dear?”
My gulp must have been audible because the three remaining sisters collectively giggled and Mr. Easterly told his wife to knock it off.
“I’m waiting.” Mrs. Easterly emphasized her impatience by squeezing my hand. She was far stronger than I anticipated.
“Um. . .yes. . .at the moment. And please, call me Colton.”
Releasing her grip, Mrs. Easterly returned back to the kitchen, but not before she stopped by her husband sitting at the dining table and exchanged a kiss. If I hadn’t felt so out of place, I’d have thought it was sweet.
“You can call us Marisol and Nash. Are you staying for dinner?”
“I, ugh, actually have plans. But thank you for the invitation.”
“Come sit down, Colton. I want to hear your plans for the house,” Nash said as he waved his arm in my direction.
I chatted with him for a while as he told me stories about the farm and his family heritage. The most intriguing part was that the house I’d bought had once belonged to his family. It almost made me feel bad that I’d outbid them this morning, but he assured me that he was happy I wasn’t going to tear it down.
At least, that was my plan. I already worked it out with the sheriff to have some crews assess the damage to the roof so that it could be fixed as soon as possible. I was pushing to rush the paperwork in the hopes that I could move onto the property by the end of the week since it was vacant.
Brett and Lily were ecstatic for me, selfishly, of course, because they believed it meant that I was going to stay, but I hadn’t decided any course of action past renovating the house.
“My daughter, Autumn, has some really great ideas for the place. I’m sure she’d be happy to go over them with you.”
“Dad,” one of the sisters mumbled in alarm. It was clear that they did not share the same sentiment.
“What?” he said naively. “Maybe Colton would like to hear about all the historical aspects of the house.”
Collectively, the group turned their attention toward me and I subconsciously wiped my hands against the legs of my jeans.
“Um. . .yes. I haven’t really thought about how I’d design the interior, but keeping it historically accurate would be nice. Are there any pictures?” I asked as I let the idea fester and grow in my mind. Maintaining the house’s history would absolutely make it more appealing for renters or buyers if I decided not to stay on the property.
“I’m sure there are. Alexandra, why don’t you see if Autumn is feeling more like herself and have her come chat?” Marisol gave her instructions as a command and I peeked over my shoulder to find Alex rolling her eyes at her mother’s back.
This family had an interesting dynamic, that’s for sure.
After ten minutes, Alex never returned with Autumn, who I pieced together was the woman from the grocery store. I’d listened to Nash go on about the property and their ranch. He even let me know he went by the farmhouse frequently and did his best to keep up whatever maintenance he could. That explained why it was in far better shape than the contractor I’d hired expected. Listening to Mr. Easterly talk about the property that had once belonged to his family was fascinating and I’d wanted to stay longer, but I wanted to run by the house one more time before heading back to the Chisolm’s.
“I need to be heading back, but if it’s alright with you, I’d really like if you would join me at the end of the week when I get access to the house.”
“Well, that sounds nice, son. I appreciate it. I don’t see why I can’t get away, though it’s getting close to the corn harvest.”
“Is that what you all grow?” I asked, intrigued.
“Corn is our main produce, but we also have a small garden the girls keep up with for the local farmers market.”
“I’ve always been fascinated by agriculture. Even thought I’d be a farmer when I was younger. Then I caught the hockey bug and the rest is history.”
The man’s face lit up. “You play hockey?”
“I did.”
From the couch, one of the daughters said, “Huh. That explains why you’re so big.”
I didn’t know how to reply to that one, so I turned my attention back to Nash. Marisol walked over to stand behind his chair, gently placing her wrinkled hands on his shoulders.
“You must be the one staying with Coach Chisolm. He hasn’t stopped talking about it for the last few weeks.”
My cheeks flamed as I nodded.
“Yep. That’s me. I played for Coach when I was in the minors. We’ve kept in contact since I went to the NHL.”
“Well, I can’t say that we watch a whole lot of hockey in our house, but I do like catching a game every now and then. Predator fans here, though. Sorry,” Nash said with a chuckle as he rose from his chair and grasped Marisol’s hand.
I could tell that there was a lot of love between the two of them. It left me wanting to know more about their history.
Nash held out his weathered hand and I shook it as I made my way to the door. I’d followed him over in my truck since I wasn’t staying nearby. He’d surprised me when he showed up at the property earlier and mentioned the easement on his land. We chatted for a minute about the house and what I’d planned to do, then he invited me back to his home since all of his property surrounded mine. I hadn’t even realized that the house sat on fifty acres of land, which was far more than I needed, but I already had ideas stirring in my head of what I could possibly do with the extra space.
Maybe that hockey rink wasn’t such a pipe dream after all.
As I said my goodbyes to Nash’s family that remained in the room, I saw myself out of the house and headed toward my truck parked next to a little red sedan. When I pulled up, I hadn’t put two and two together that the girl from the store could possibly live at the house. Now she was my neighbor.
The girl intrigued me for sure, but I was in no shape mentally or emotionally for a relationship. But maybe she’d see the appeal after a few nights in my bed.
Settling in my truck, I looked up at one of the second-floor windows wondering if any of them belonged to her. The house was massive, so there was a good chance she could be anywhere in the home. As I inspected the windows, my eye landed on a curtain pushed aside as if a hand held it out of the way so the person beyond could see out. Before I could blink, a small hand shot out against the window and I could just make out the imprint of a middle finger jutting up in the air.
