Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are using the word green in our stories.  I am still working on the story with the realtor and the doctor looking for a house. This week’s entry isn’t scary like I’ve been posting. LOL

Be sure to check out the other tales here. 

“No one has lived here for two years. I’d suggest a cleaning company come in before closing for a deep cleanse.”

“Since the first thing I’d do is tear down that atrocious wallpaper, there’d be no need for that until all the renovations were done.”

“So none of this has made you change your mind?”

“Not at all. I haven’t seen anything yet that’s an insurmountable problem.” Max pointed at the closest bookcase. “Those are all full of old volumes even though I see a few newer authors’ works here. Do the books and furnishings come with the house?” His gaze took in the room. “This would be a lot to haul away.”

“As far as I know, the grandson is making no claim on anything here. Let’s look around some more and if you want to put something in any offer you choose to make—like the contents to be removed at the seller’s expense—we can address that then.”

“Good idea.”

On their way out of the room, Max stopped beside a haphazard stack of books on the floor. He bent down and peered at the spines. “That’s a lot of books there by Ian Fleming. Wonder how long it took him to write them.”

“Here’s another stack by Barbara Cartland. She wrote a ton of paperbacks over the years.”

“And here’s some by Agatha Christie. Looks like Mrs. Rigby just piled them everywhere.”

“At least she was organized.” Stella laughed.

“Yeah, let’s give her credit for that.” He chuckled and picked up a random book on a dusty table. “Here’s one about that guy from the English House of Lords. You know, the one who killed himself in his car?”

“Sorry. Not up on things that happened in England.”

“No worries. I like biographies and read about lots of different people.”

“Let’s see what the main living area looks like.” Stella walked out of the room.

“I’m hoping there’s no more shades of brown, but I’m not optimistic.” Max ran his hand over the hideous wallpaper as they passed through the foyer.

“Perhaps there’s some puce green shag carpeting in the next room.”

They turned the corner and Max let out a gasp. “Good Lord. What happened here? It looks like someone threw up the 1970s all over this room. I thought you were kidding about the green.”

“Realtors never kid.” She winked.