Lily of a Day, Page 2
Joyce Burgess
Brenna stood in the gateway of the old picket fence, long ago whitewashed by a proud owner. Now the whitewash was peeling and the wood as weathered as the house in front of her. Climbing roses, beginning to bloom, had overtaken the front of the house and partially obscured the doorway. Ivy snaked its way up the moss-covered chimney on the north side and large old rhododendrons covered much of the south wall. Smiling, she realized it had been a long time since she had felt this happy. She recalled the realtor’s words on giving her the address of the house. “I really don’t think this is what you’re looking for. An older couple lived there for years and weren’t able to keep it up properly. It needs a fair amount of renovation and the roof leaks. The old woman had a lot of cats and the Humane Society wasn’t able to catch them all when she went to the rest home after her husband died.”
Brenna had already tolerated viewing condos and beach houses in Seacliff and the realtor realized she was going to lose the sale completely if Brenna wasn’t given the freedom to poke around some of the older homes in the small beach town.
She had seen a few that had fallen into such a decrepit state that she was beginning to think this town did not have her home hiding in it after all, waiting to be discovered as she had hoped. But on this misty northwest morning, she had followed the directions to 19 Ivy Lane, a single lane gravel road, and now stood on the old flagstone path with a feeling of anticipation.
Walking up to the door, Brenna put the old skeleton key into the tarnished lock and found it turned easily. Carefully holding the roses aside, she ducked and entered her new home.
Chapter 2
Brenna had already tolerated viewing condos and beach houses in Seacliff and the realtor realized she was going to lose the sale completely if Brenna wasn’t given the freedom to poke around some of the older homes in the small beach town.
She had seen a few that had fallen into such a decrepit state that she was beginning to think this town did not have her home hiding in it after all, waiting to be discovered as she had hoped. But on this misty northwest morning, she had followed the directions to 19 Ivy Lane, a single lane gravel road, and now stood on the old flagstone path with a feeling of anticipation.
Walking up to the door, Brenna put the old skeleton key into the tarnished lock and found it turned easily. Carefully holding the roses aside, she ducked and entered her new home.
Chapter 2
