1736 Lamont Street. I knew this was the place when I first saw it. A stately Victorian tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. The house looked majestic sitting there bordered by lovely rows of azaleas across the front, their pink, frilly blooms jutting out over the slender, almost lime green leaves. Sure, it needed some work, but houses like this one certainly don’t come along every day.
“It is perfect!” I exclaimed.
My husband, Alexander, turned to me with a questioning gaze.
“It’s rather….large. Look at all this yard to maintain. Lots of painting here, too,” he said.
Of course, the bottom line is that he would probably agree to anything if it meant not spending another weekend house hunting. Alex loved his free time, and he was anxious to get back to it.
We met the real estate agent at the office. “We’ll take it,” I told her…
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