The House

I came to San Francisco from Boston. I did not know a lot about the Bay Area but thought that it was truly beautiful. My maternal grandparents had left me a substantial inheritance. I had subscribed to the Chronicle for months. The rents were outrageous , more than twice what I paid in Stoughton. A better investment could be had by purchasing.

The real estate market being depressed , I hoped for a bargain with not too much to “fix up.” Real estate agents vied for my attention as strongly as any hopeful starlet courted Louis B Mayer. Shirley Jackson from Embarcadero Properties emerged as the strongest candidate. I received an email the day before I arrived at San Francisco Airport.

“Hello,

You do not know me . Our firm represents some of the most desirable real estate in the San Francisco Bay Area. We cover the widest range of prices . Through our excellent team of negotiators, we can provide you with a variety of low interest mortgage options, both flexible and fixed. Please feel free to contact me at 877-555-1966.

We care about your business.

Shirley Jackson

Representative Embarcadero Real Estate

P S Sue, I hope that I am not being forward, but I have to pick up Estelle Malone who hired you for your new job at Colin, Wilson and Campbell at about the same time that your plane should also arrive. Estelle and I go way back.

If you like, it would be my pleasure to take you to your destination as well. Please advise.”

I do not usually accept rides from strangers but a cab driver is also a stranger . Besides, it would give Estelle a chance to fill me in on any details that might have been missed when last we spoke. I called the number and left my acceptance on the voice mail. Then, I followed it up with an email to both Shirley and Estelle , leaving my contact information.

The day that I landed at SFO, I was entranced. It was a place vital and busy. People passed me rushing to the BART train . I was just relieved to see that all of my luggage had arrived with me. I walked down the long corridor towards the street , when I saw a short gray haired woman tastefully dressed waving a sign “Hi Sue, I am Shirley Jackson from Embarcadero Real Estate. Nice to meet you!” I walked over and we shook hands. Her  tailored red jacket fit smoothly over her pintucked white blouse . The black A line skirt was a classic and suited her ample hips well.

“ Hello Stranger, So you are finally here!” intoned Estelle as she approached us from my left. She hugged me briefly . She and I had hit it off from the very beginning. “Welcome to San Francisco.” She opened her arms grandly above her head , as if to magically create San Francisco  from nothing.

“ Car is this way” instructed Shirley . We followed her like obedient wooden toy dogs being dragged by an exhuberant toddler. She spoke with the ghost of a New York accent, long hidden by life on the West Coast.“I just felt that we would get along. Just knew it. “

Dutifully, we marched out to the short term parking lot. Estelle and I popped our rolling suitcases into the trunk just as soon as Shirley opened the latch. Shirley grabbed my arm to squire me into the shotgun position of the car . Estelle smiled knowingly as she scrambled into the backseat. Shirley's burgandy Buick LaCrosse edged its way out of the airport , towards San Francisco.

" I have something to show you,"Shirley smiled. " Just came onto the market today . I thought that we could see the house , get some lunch , then I would drop you two off."

" I am totally at your command, as usual," laughed Estelle from the back.

" And me? I believe what Tennessee Williams said about kindness and strangers.I am up for an adventure. Lets do it." I settled more deeply into the bucket seat.

" If you reach down , see those papers? Can You reach? Well, ummm, never mind, I will at the next light. " As if by command , the light in front of us turned red. Shirley should have been an escape artist . Snap she was out of the belt ,placing the papers upon my lap.Snap , she was once again locked into place as the light turned green.

One house attracted my attention more than the others.It was a Victorian .Not one of the Three Sisters, for the house stood proudly,although surrounded  with the boxy stucco monstrosities of the '50's. It stood proudly in its shiny new white paint with sea mist shutters.

" Sorry about the lawn. We just got through pulling down a rusty old chain link fence . We thought that the lawn looked a little scrabby . Those are not the original stairs leading up. Cement doesn't do well in earthquakes. So the stairs are new. I suggested to the contractor that black wrought iron bannisters might class the place up. Maybe a fleur de lisle edging fence around the front yard...though I would want a higher privacy fence in the back," she explained as she drove."Right in your price range too. "

I had loved the 200 year old house that my great grandmother had owned in New Hampshire. My grandparents sold it when I was eight. This house was smaller than hers had been but I was not raising a family in it. It was an improvement on any apartment that I could imagine. I closed my eyes, picturing living in such a place. Being Victorian, the rooms would be small. Hopefully the kitchen would be of reasonable size. I voiced this concern to Shirley.

"The kitchen? It is kind of medium . we are still refinishing that. If you are seriously interested, its possible that you could pick out the new flooring , appliances, wall coverings .It wouldn't change the price . You'de have what you were going to do with it . No major damage,just wear and tear. Seemed like a nice family. Single man, younger girl friend who must have been okay. He had custody of both daughters as they grew up. Sad for the girlfriend though. She just had a son by him . Then her boyfriend up and dies. It was too financed for her to save it. So she moved."

"It does happen" I added , as I remembered the last divorce case that I had handled.Men had a habit of dying or leaving just when you needed them most.  My mouth watered at the thought of planting scarlet wine Gypsy Sunblaze roses behind the fence. I loved their minature white centers. Maybe some climbing American Beauty roses as well clinging to the wall, brushing the gingerbread. I reminded myself that I was getting ahead of myself .

"When may I see it?"

Shirley paused as she parked at Houlihan's on the Wharf.

"How is nine tomorrow morning for you?"

"Sounds good. I don't start until Monday." I handed Shirley back her paperwork,

" If you like it, we have a corporate apartment on Fell Street where you could stay rent free until we are through inside."

"That is quite an offer!"

"Market's tough right now . What can I say? Have to do better than the other fellow with perks.Shall we go eat?"

Shirley drove past the house as she conveyed me to my hotel. There it stood in all of its glory. The neighborhood seemed nice enough. Lots of older people walking their dogs. A quiet neighborhood would be conducive to chosing to do some of my work at home. That would be a tax break. I had looked at other offers while still in Boston. This one was the best one so far. Estelle insisted that if I bought it , that we would have a decent housewarming. She would even bring her famous chocolate mousse.

The next day, we met promptly at nine. She sipped her Naked Orange Juice as she drove.

"There is another in the red lunch bag at your feet , if you would like one,I sometimes live in my car so have learned how to cope."

I declined the juice . The ride was not long to 6114 California Street. I could see a plumber's white and burgandy panelled van parked in front.

"We will be replacing the fixtures. I asked them to hold off as long as possible as I had a potential. " She squeezed my hand excitedy. Then she launched into her pitch ."Incidentally, there is a great salvage place over in Berkeley , if you want authentic."

" This house was originally built in 1905. It is considered to be a medium sized house for the time, and is, I think" here she pursed her lips. 'Yes here it is ,2,205 square feet. " I left her , so that i could walk the halls briefly. The kitchen was not quite as large as I had hoped but , i knew that I could work with it. Shirley followed me at a respctable distance .

"So what do you think?"

" I am thinking that if you will assume fifty percent of the closing costs that you have a deal. You showed me the inspection reports yesterday in the car. "

" We can do that. Why don't I take you back to the office , we can do the paperwork to get things started . Then we celebrate at lunch, If you want, I confirmed this morning that the loaner apartment is available . You can move in today, saving you even more money"

Thirty days passed quickly . i supervised the work whenever i could. I chose the restoration type wall paper border that set off the pale blue gray walls. A merlot wall to wall covered the downstairs floor. I kept the built in book shelves from the previous owner. It was clear that he had liked to read. Finally , the day to take occupancy arrived.

Box after box of books, household items and clothing arrived three days after my sister in Natick closed my apartment in Massachusetts. Chaos that surrounded me . I would be days getting everything logically shelved. A pizza was defiantely high on my list for dinner, when the doorbell sounded. I pulled the wooden door open slowly. There stood an older man whose face was long . He appeared to be dour in manner. His wife, dressed in a fluffy organza blouse of seashell pink complimented by a darker pink floral skirt with nondescript large white flowers printed on it. She dusted off her Berkinstock mules with her handkerchief. It was old fashioned linen with a tatted edging.

" We are the Carpenters from across the street," she gestured with her elbowas her hands were full. "We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." She pushed a small baked pie into my hands . The aroma of cinnamon and apples wafted from the still warm pie . Her husband fidgeted behind her. I invited them .

I apologized for the mess. Excusing  myself to rummage in the kitchenware box until I produced my french press , the kettle and some paper plates. Three cups of steaming Joe and home baked pie. This was a treat.

June Carpenter told me how they had lived in the neighborhood most of their adult lives. That they had known the previous residents who they thought were nice people. Her husband poked her in the ribs but she brushed him off. He repeated this action so often , that I wondered if this were a nervous tic of his.

Finally June snapped 'Oh what is it Ward?"

" You know what it is," came the reply.

"As if that ever mattered. They were nice people. He used to be in show business. Circus, I think , he was just a little ,"she drew a breath "Flashy , in a dark sort of way. But nice people."

"Ask her"

June's eyes flashed "Oh for goodness sakes , Ward , the house has been empty for nine years. Be quiet . Think about your real estate values." She was definately exasperated.

I turned to Ward, who had preceeded his wife as they readied themselves to leave. June apologized for the intrusion. I responded that it was a necessary break.

" Ask me WHAT , Ward?" I challenged. I tend to be direct ,even confrontational when someone is shilly shalling .

Ward squirmed under my gaze. I have seen prisoners more confortable with the knowledge that they were going to Death Row than he was at that moment."

He leaned forward as if not wanting the world to hear my terrible secret that he was about to ask.

"Are you one of THEM?"

"The only THEM to which I will plead is the American Bar Association with licenses in Massachusetts and California. I trust that answers the question to your satisfaction. " Mutely he nodded. June swatted his arm as they left. Ward muttered something that I could not hear, then wished me good night.

I waited for them to walk down the front stairs and across the street before turning out the porch light, The boxes would have to wait until the next day. I was tired.

I walked up the stairs , turning to the left as i did . My bedroom was the only thing unpacked. Candy pink walls with white crown moulding . All chosen by me. White eyelet curtains hung on those long windows. The white Boston rocker stood in the corner,its fading decal of a fish with feet as it had since college. I lowered myself into the white and pink gingham cushions. The rocking soothed me as I surveyed the room. My collection of Ginny dolls pert in the preteen pinafored glory of the 1950's child competed with the more lavish costumed sisters made by Mme Alexander. It was the picture of an All American Childhood of a certain age.

In the darkened room, as i rocked, I pictured an imaginary Ward. "Do you really want the answer to your question,neighbor? "I purred to the image in my mind. Imaginary Ward nodded.

" I know the history of this house. I have loved it all of my life. Especially when it was used by the Church of Satan."