"Marshall?" I opened up the door to find my appraiser admiring the porch columns. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm..." He looked around, one brow cocked and his mouth twisted into an uncertain smile. "I'm here to appraise? You know, to do the job you've been asking me to do for almost a month now?"

"Huh? Oh!" I slapped a palm to my forehead. "Right, it's Monday now, isn't it? You said you'd be back on Monday."

"I know you wanted me here sooner, but it really was just crazy at my house for the holidays." Despite his words, he seemed pleased with the craziness as I invited him in. "I hope you had a good Thanksgiving."

"Yeah." I took his coat and hung it up in the closet by the door. "I made some pies, and we hosted the county's House of Hope here for dinner."

"You made pies?" He chuckled as he pulled out a tablet to take notes. "And you hosted? I expected you to say you curled up in bed all day and binged on Netflix. Heck, I would have expected to hear you say you worked all day before believing you actually cooked a dinner." After a light laugh, he quickly added. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. I think it's great you got to have a nice Thanksgiving. Just not what I expected."

I cleared my throat and looked over at the sitting room. "Well, I suppose we should get started."

"Yes, we should." His tone shifted into a more professional timbre. "I would have been here sooner, but I had other clients already scheduled for today."

"No reason to apologize," I said, waving his words away. "I appreciate you squeezing me in."

"I'm just glad we can finally do this. Wasn't sure anyone was going to pry the keys out of that caretaker's hands. I hope your great aunt never let him around guests. He had a horrible disposition, which I'm sure you saw."

"I... he's really not all that bad," I answered, my voice cracking with guilt. "He's just very protective of this house, and he was very close to my aunt." I then swallowed and cast my eyes around, fearful he might be lurking in a corner. "He's also still employed here."

"Oh," said Marshall with a little bounce, "my apologies. He just..."

"I know," I said, raising a hand. "I understand, but we've reached a truce. So no more hard feelings."

"Right," he replied with a smile, "well, I'm glad he's not causing you anymore problems."

"I'm not sure about that." I mumbled the words to myself as we stepped into the sitting room.

We circled through the first floor. Marshall marveled at the historic Dutch colonial accents, but was also quick to notice the more recent modifications and additions. In particular, he spotted the expansion in the dining room. He did, however, respect the fact that Gina had Jordan keep the original floorboards instead of replacing them completely, even if a slight seam stood out in the flooring. We then went upstairs, where we skipped the current guest's room, but checked in everywhere else. As for my room, I ran into it to do a real quick clean up so that there was no sign of my makeshift mattress. Finally, we headed out to the grounds, where in the distance, we could hear Jordan working with a saw in the workshop.

"This is the original cedar clapboard, by the way." I pointed to the patch of exterior wall Marshall was inspecting. "My aunt didn't have the heart or the money to replace all the siding. Once she discovered it was just time and weather that had peeled the paint, she spent an entire summer working every hour she had free, sanding down the boards and repainting them. You can't buy quality like that nowadays without donating all of your organs."

"I'm not sure you even need me here," he said with a laugh. "Seems like you've become quite a historian on this house."

I shrugged away his compliment, but a little ember of pride glowed within me and the blush across my cheeks tattled the effect his words had on me. So I looked away and caught sight of the sun already gliding down towards the trees. "Hmm, we'll probably have to wrap up soon. Check-in will start shortly and we have a guest arriving tonight."

"You're taking in more guests?" He tucked his tablet under his arm and blew his breath into his hands. "I thought you were just seeing out this weekend."

"I either play hostess or I cancel a lot of people's reservations during the holidays. I chose the lesser of two evils."

"Yeah, I suppose I wouldn't want to deal with canceling someone's vacation right before Christmas. That gets you on Santa's naughty list."

"Ask people around town and just the fact I'm trying to sell this house has guaranteed me coal in my stocking." I sighed, looking out towards the drive to find the spires of church steeples and the gabled roofs of the town's many historic homes peeking over the trees.

"Well, perhaps you won't have to deal with any of that," he said, following my gaze, before turning back to the house and spreading his hands, "or any of this soon."

"What do you mean?" I faced him with my hands shoved into the warmth of my armpits.

"I have another client, a corporate client, that I work with regularly. I happened to mention the trouble we were having getting your home appraised. He asked about the house and I told him how great it looked from the outside and what a profitable location it was in." Marshall paused, licking his chapped lips and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "He's taken quite an interest and if you'll let me pass along the word, I'm sure once I tell him about the interior he'll be champing at the bit to come down here."

"He... what now?"

I shook my head, trying to register his words. Part of me burst with excitement. A loud, ecstatic voice cheered at the thought of removing this from my plate. That, however, wasn't unexpected. The disappointment that dampened that cheer, though, was surprising. I wanted to let this place go. I still felt that was true. But I thought I'd have more time before that would happen. I couldn't leave without some sort of closure, though I wasn't sure what exactly that closure was.

"This investor," said Marshall again, apparently oblivious to my struggle, "specializes in picturesque getaways like this. He's really taken an interest in this place and I think he'd be down here within a week if you'd let him come visit."

"Oh, wow, okay." My words dropped heavy from my lips as I worked through the conflicting emotions waging war inside my head. "Well, there is one thing. I, um, unwittingly saw an inspection report. There are a lot of problems and..."

"Don't worry about that." He dismissed my concerns with a hearty laugh. "This is the kind of client with a bottomless bank account. Based on what I've seen, nothing is in such dire need that it would cost more than the property is worth. Besides, you don't have to disclose that until contracts are brought forward. For now, he'll just want to look around."

"Well, I suppose there's nothing wrong with that."

"There is nothing wrong with that, right?" His head bowed forward and his brow raised. "If you want, I can just write you up an appraisal so you know how much your house is worth."

"No," I snapped, "no, no, this is not my... I'm just handling my aunt's estate and seeing it get into good hands. Please pass along your report to your other client and have him reach out to me."

"Great, he'll be thrilled to hear it." He clapped a hand on my shoulder and urged me to walk him back to the front of the house. "And if you change your mind..."

"No, I'm glad someone is already so interested. Means my aunt's hard work wasn't in vain. I'm happy someone sees its value and appreciates it."

I got him his coat. We said our goodbyes and then he left for the train station. I almost called him back, but I didn't know what I planned to say to him. So I let him leave and soon the next guests had arrived, their needs pushing back my uncertainty and locking it away to be forgotten.