The House

Chapter 24 - Day 3: The Beautiful Peach

"You're going to live here?" I don't know why the thought is making me feel ridiculously happy. Up until about an hour ago, I was hell-bent on leaving this place. Apparently, I've changed my mind. Luna and her scary antics are a distant memory right now.

"Yup, that's the plan. It's going to take some time, and to be honest; the place is a bit of a money pit at the moment. I might need to sacrifice some of the more valuable antique pieces in the house just to be able to pay for the repairs, but it will be worth it in the end," he says, sounding as if he's trying to convince himself or perhaps, he's trying to convince the house. "I'll make sure of it."

I vaguely wonder why David's father is being bypassed in the chain of possession. I suppose his father should be the next heir to the place since David is a Stirling, like his grandfather; if the house was going to be his mother's, his surname would probably have been something different.

"Don't you have uncles and aunties who should be inheriting it?" I ask, being impressively subtle about what I really want to know.

"My father is an only child, and he has no interest in this place. He told my grandfather to sell it or bequeath it to me rather than to him if I want it. Perhaps he's afraid that his stepchildren will try to get their hands on it somehow," he gives a soft laugh, and I can hear a lot of pain and resentment in that laugh. "Not much chance of that, though. He probably just doesn't want to be bothered with the paperwork."

He scoffs at himself, clearly a little embarrassed about showing and telling so much of what he thinks and feels. I am a stranger, after all.

"If there were caretakers, how did the place fall into this state?" Perhaps, they were all like Ron, useless. Does David know how awful Ron is?

"In the last 20 years or so, the caretakers were only paid to take care of the house. Have it aired out a few times a week and get a cleaning team in to get rid of dust once a month. Keep the driveway clear, make sure that squatters and looters don't get in, that kind of thing.

"My grandfather recently started to rent the place out to artists, and the current caretaker is supposed to look after them. The gardens have unfortunately been left to become what they wanted to become, which is a mess.

"The orchard is in desperate need of care; it's been virtually destroyed by brown rot caused by a fungus. I'm in the process of treating it, and I plan to plant more trees and get La Belle Pêche back to a state that matches its name. The Beautiful Peach. I'll turn the place into a profitable home again. A place to be proud of."

I smile, listening to David talk about his plans. I can see the passion on his face and hear the determination in his voice, and I suddenly wish that I could see the place once he's done with it.

"It is going to be so beautiful," I breathe, picturing his words in my mind. Rolling lawns, lush flowerbeds, and a thriving peach orchard. "It is going to be amazing. I'm glad you're going to save this place; it is rather special."

Special? Am I for real?!

Well, it does let me play in the ocean and paint stunning portraits while I'm sleeping. That is rather special. It is also filled with clocks boisterously ticking away the time, time David is supposed to spend working on the grounds, and I am supposed to be painting.

I don't care. I'm starting to enjoy hanging out in the kitchen.

"I think so too," David's smile is filled with warmth and a touch of nostalgia. "Let me go check on the fire. I'll be right back."

"Oh!" I exclaim, remembering a more urgent need than the noisy clocks. "Before we go tackle the other clocks, would you mind jumping me?"

I know that without context, those were the wrong words to use to voice my request, and if I wasn't painfully aware of it already, David's astonished face is spelling it out for me. Am I inadvertently uttering my hidden desires, or is my brain broken?

"My car!" I shout louder than is strictly necessary, and I can feel my cheeks flushing with heat. "Jump-start my car. I forgot the lights on, the battery is quite dead, and I'll also need to use your spade to dig it out of the mud."

"The battery is in the mud?" David's shock gave way to amusement, which is now being replaced by confusion.

"No, the car is... Well... its wheels are..."

"Sure," he says, slowly nodding his head. "I'll go take a look at the fire, grab the spade and come jump you," he chuckles, turning to open the door when I give him a deadly look. He puts his hand on the doorknob, and that is when we hear the first loud roll of thunder and fat raindrops hit the windows.

I count one, two, three, slapping loudly against the glass, and then I cannot count them anymore as the clouds let go of their burden in a rushing flood, and the world outside disappears in a hazy shower. David is still standing with his hand on the door handle, looking through the little windows in front of his face.

"Well," he finally says, "I guess that takes care of the fire."

He lets go of the doorknob, puts his gloves back on the counter and kicks off his shoes, and then he turns to look at me again, his hands resting on his hips. 

"How about we go murder some more clocks?"

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