“Doesn’t it feel coastal?” Vic-tor-ee-uh had crooned, as she led a gaggle of nosy neighbors room to room. Never mind that they were a hundred miles from the nearest coast. Anna Beth had grabbed Phoebe’s hand as they detoured sharply from the planned route and into a brass and marble–appointed powder room that was more befitting a czarina than a stay-at-home mother. “Welcome Summer gathering, my ass,” Anna Beth hissed as she slid the pocket door closed behind them. “This is a smug ride on a show pony.”
They’d spent the rest of the “tour” doubled over in giggles, trying to flush the hands-free smart toilet by wiggling their rear ends over the bowl, until someone knocked on the door.
Now Phoebe gazed back at Rob with what she hoped was masked ire. What was he insinuating? The Warrens’ house was ridiculous. All Phoebe wanted was a house with a separate bedroom for each boy and a yard to play in. And maybe more room. The lake house would afford them all of that. Plus the lake.
“Honey. Hear me out. Our lives are crazy busy. School, kids, work. Forget paying bills and mowing the lawn and trying to keep up with cleaning this dump.”
“Dump?” It was Rob’s turn to prickle.
“This house is our hub. It has to function, or we can’t.”
Rob stood up slowly. “Maybe we can work on the kitchen a little. I know it’s dated, but it still works. Mostly.”
“Right. And the last thing you cooked in here was…?”
Rob held up his hands. “All right. But I don’t think now is the time.”
“You’re up for that promotion,” she reminded him. “You’ve been groomed and waiting your turn in line for years. Dan said so.”
Dan was Rob’s boss at the marketing firm. He’d been hinting at moving Rob up in recent months, and a position had finally opened. Interviews were already underway, but Dan had told Rob off the record that it was just a formality. The job was his if he wanted it.
“Then we should wait until I get the job.”
“The house is a steal. It won’t be there if we wait!”
“Phoebe, I love your gusto. But this feels rushed. Maybe we should let things unfold and see what happens.”
Phoebe glanced around. At the boys’ artwork obscuring the dated fridge. At the coats spilling out of the hall closet. The tiny living room, crammed with toys.
“I’m not built like you,” she said, fighting back tears. “I’ve loved this house since I was a little girl. I can’t just sit back and let things unfold according to the goddamned universe.”
Rob went to her and pulled her against him. “I know. Indeed, you are your own force within it.” He sighed into her hair, and she felt the mix of exasperation and warmth in it. “This house is really the one?”
She pulled back to see if he was serious. “It is.” Then, “Wouldn’t it be nice to host the family at Thanksgiving?”
Rob’s nose twitched. “Your family?”
She kissed the tip of it. “Never mind. Friends. Neighbors.”
“You hate the neighbors.”
She smiled. “I hate everybody.”
* * *
The next day they went to see it. Rob loved the view. He did not love the improvements that would need to be made. Or the fact they’d have to sell their house quickly to make it work. “It’s virtually the same size as our current home,” he argued.
“Yes, but it has one more bedroom for the boys. And look at that.” She pointed out the picture window at the lake below. He couldn’t argue that. Phoebe made an appointment with an inspector and a contractor. Rob made an appointment with their financial advisor.
On paper it could work. But only just. “You don’t have any wiggle room,” the advisor warned, as he reviewed the proposed cost spreadsheet with them. He set his pencil down. “Look, renovating an old house can be like opening a can of worms.”
Rob didn’t like the sound of this either. There were too many opportunities for things to go wrong.
Phoebe did not share the same fear. “Let’s not forget, I banked my last year’s salary before the boys were born. We’ve been able to live largely off of your salary without touching mine. We’ll create a budget and stick to it. If things go awry, there’s always that cushion.”
It was true. In five years they’d only dipped into Phoebe’s set-aside work income once, and that was when the Jeep needed repairs. But it didn’t mean Rob wanted to lean on it.
“Phoebe, we’re financially secure. Remember the years of lying awake wondering how we’d pay off grad school loans and buy groceries? I don’t ever want to go back to that.”
“Neither do I, and we won’t. Worst case, I go back to work. Don’t you see, this is what we’ve been talking about. Getting out of our starter and into our forever home. This is the house we’d have for the rest of our lives.”
Rob groaned, but she went on. “Picture it: Birthday parties where the kids can swim with their friends right out of their own backyard. Christmases with the whole family over, followed by ice-skating on the lake. Then graduations. Who knows, maybe someday a wedding…”
Rob looked at her then, at the stars in her eyes. He couldn’t deny it. This was what he loved about his wife. He was pragmatic, and she was the dreamer. Between the two they struck a balance. “So, we’re really going to do this?”
It was a question she’d never forget being asked. Because Rob was in. Despite the risks and the unknowns, he was on board. For the briefest moment she waffled.
“If we don’t, I think I’ll always regret it.”
“All right, then.”
* * *
They’d spilled the good news to her family over their weekly Sunday night dinner. Rob let Phoebe do the talking. To her consternation, only Jake seemed to like the idea. “I get it,” he said. “It’s your little place in the big world. Why not love where you live?”
Predictably, Perry had shaken his head over his plate of chicken piccata. “You’re flipping a house? Do you know the financial risks associated?”
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “No one’s flipping anything. We’re buying a fixer-upper.”
At which Perry mumbled, not quite under his breath, “No risk there.”
Phoebe was grateful when Amelia elbowed him. Twice. “We’ll live in the cottage as we renovate it,” Phoebe explained.
Their mother, Jane, went straight to the kids. “What about the boys? All that dust and debris! Just think about the mess. Can you really live in those conditions?”
Phoebe had pushed her plate away. “This is for the boys. And it won’t be forever. You guys have to see it. You’ll love it.”
But the family wasn’t done.
“Have you had it inspected?”
“What if you tear off the siding and find rot?”
“Or mold?”
“I’ve heard slate roofs are harbingers of mold!”
“Have you even checked the roof?”
All the while, her father sat back in his chair, withholding comment. Phoebe locked eyes with him, waiting. Edward almost always championed her ideas.