Cluster 2's assignment was to describe a place that exists in our thesis. Mine became much more of a scene--it's a scene I've been avoiding writing, so it's always nice to be forced out of procrastination. This fits about 60 pages in, so most of you are missing a lot of back story, but I think the most important thing is: Talley is the narrator's stepmother, Baxter is Talley's son.


“This is our last house in town in town,” Talley says as she parks in front of the third house.

Wellfleet stretches for miles in all directions, but it's mostly forest and marshland and beaches and ponds. A lot of houses are nestled in trees, far enough away from other houses to seem private amongst beautiful views of all that nature. The main town is only about ten square blocks, with all the stores and restaurants, the library and city hall.

Dad and Talley haven't said so, but I think they're hoping to live in this area, close to the shop they're going to open. I know I'd prefer it. There's no way to mistake this sleepy marketplace for New York, but at least something is happening here.

And this house is apparently our last chance at it. I can tell as soon as we get through the fence that it isn't the One. It's perfectly cute, a single story ranch, but Talley's face says it all: not exactly Barbie's dream house and Dad and Talley aren't going to settle for less than their total dream come true, plus skylights and granite countertops.

Thank God! I've never thought of it until now: if Dad and Talley don't find what they're looking for, then they won't move here! How likely is it their dream house is in this little town? Settling for less in New York is much easier than moving and settling for less a few hundred miles away. I skip up the front path of this house we won't buy, consider whistling, because their hopes are so high that they're bound to come crashing down into little pieces of some silly, wasted weekend. We're not moving!

A very short woman in a banana yellow pantsuit meets us at the front door. “Hello! Hello, hello!” she says. “Are you here for the open house?”

“Um,” Talley says, “no. Not exactly. We're looking all around today. But if you'd like to show us the house—”

The woman is squinting at Talley. “This house isn't for you. I'm Lacey Letson. Your house is in this town, we just need to find it.” You can see Talley melt—literally, her shoulders dropping down as she takes Lacey Letson's hand. “What are you looking for, Ms—?”

“Munro, but please call me Talley. This is my partner, Tony, and our kids, Emma and Baxter.”

“Hello!” Lacey Letson gives each of us a quick, vigorous handshake. “You two must be twins or Irish twins at least, right?” she says, eyes darting from me to Baxter. “Am I right?”

It's not uncommon for people to think we're actually related even though we don't look that much alike. We just have the same coloring—dark hair, blue eyes, pale skin—and we're both taller than average.

“He's my stepbrother,” I tell her.

“Actually, our parents aren't married yet,” Baxter says which starts Talley off.

“We started dating and moved in together six years ago, but he proposed last week—” She goes on about the ring, from Tiffany's I find out, and their store owning ambitions, and the house in Boston her grandparents used to live in, and how she's always wanted a vegetable garden.

Lacey Letson listens and offers us wine, cheese and fruit in the front hall. When Talley's finally done, Lacey says, “I know exactly what you want and exactly where it is. It's not on the market yet, but I can get you in to see it.”

She flips open her phone, presses a number, and calls, “Jimmy! I need the key to Cheshire House.” Talley give a little giggle at the name and Lacey Letson winks.

Cheshire probably reminds her, and most people, of the cat in Alice in Wonderland, and isn't that charming? Everyone always forgets how terrifying the Alice books really are. Cheshire is actually a county in England famous for its cheese. We're going to see Cheese House.

I can't think of how to articulate this flaw to Dad without rambling, so I just say, “Cheshire is—cheese.”

“Isn't that fascinating?” Talley says. “We all love cheese!”

I bite my lip to keep from grousing that's not the point!

Jimmy on the phone is very helpful and Lisa Letson takes us to Cheshire House right away. She gets on a little white vespa and we follow her a few blocks northwest from what I hoped was our last chance. Wellfleet's not big enough to have neighborhoods, but this street is one of the nicer we've seen, as pretty and polished as a movie set.

Lacey Letson turns into a driveway that goes under a huge balcony that wraps arount eh whole house. It takes me until we're parked underneath the balcony, bright light filtering through the honeysuckle vine on a huge trellis wall, for me to realize where we are.

This is the house. It's the house Mom, Dad, and I used to look at when we came here on vacation. I have had my room picked out in this house since I was six-years-old.

“Holy cow,” says my dad. “Em, do you—”

“Yes,” I say. “I remember.”

Lunchtime's satisfying fullness hardens until my stomach feels packed with heavy paperweights of dread. I hate this house. I hate that it's still here after all these years and I hate that it was never built in Manhattan, nothing like it, not anywhere. I hate that their hopes weren't too high—they were on a cloud, with this house, protected by angels.

“What?” Baxter says.

I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door. The smell of sun-heated honeysuckle is stunning. “The compromise is officially over,” I tell him. “We're buying this house.”

//

It's impossibly perfect. Except that it's not impossible because it's right here. The house was built in 1865 or 1870, Lacey Letson can't remember, and it's the beach's answer to the classic Victorian. Freshly painted pale blue and white, below the wrap-around balcony is a wrap-around porch, lots of columns and gingerbread accents.

It would be beautiful no matter what, but there is also a massive front room, accessible from the front door, disconnected from the rest of the house by sliding doors, a big bay window right in front. Add a cash register and some kites and it's Talley's store.

Inside, there's a fully modernized kitchen, hardwood floors, lots of windows looking out on a big, flowering burst of a garden. Every room upstairs has a door on to the balcony. The old maid's room is twice as big as the master suite in Dad and Talley's apartment in New York.

“This amazing,” says Talley at the end of Lacey Letson's tour, as we walk back into the upstairs hallway. “It's like a dream. Is this fated or too good to be true?”

“Too good to be true,” Baxter says, kicking at a intricately carved door frame. “For sure. This place has to have a murderous, inbred family living in the basement or the ghosts of hundreds of abused children or something. Do you want to put us in a horror movie?”

Lacey Letson's eye twitches at Baxter, but Talley isn't even a little fazed. “It's an adventure, cookie,” she says, like maybe he's right, but it's sure to be one of those horror movies in which the family perseveres—except for maybe the annoying brother—and the sun is shimmering to delicate music at the end.

I've been chewing on my lip this whole tour, but now my canine breaks through a tender spot and blood rushes into my mouth. I suck my lip under my tongue to hide it. The copper taste is nauseating as I swallow it down, but my stomach's still too hard to turn.

“We all need to discuss before we make any decisions,” Dad tells Lacey Letson, putting a hand on Talley's shoulder.

“Yes,” Talley sighs, looking longingly at the claw foot bathtub in the bathroom—the only bathroom, as I'll be sure to mention at our discussion.

“It won't technically be on the market until Monday,” Lacey Letson says, “and I promise not to show it to anyone else—you know this place is going to go fast. But you have a little time. Here's my contact information.” She takes a pink card out of a silver case and then another one out of the back of her slim leather binder. “And here's Al Howard's card—he's the only home inspector I'll vouch for and if you mention I recommended him, he'll survey Cheshire House for you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Talley says, taking the cards and shaking Lacey Letson's hand. If she keeps it up, Lacey Letson might end up a bridesmaid at the wedding.