The House in the Hills Read online

“Oh, my God, you are ridiculous!” She was almost beside herself. But this was Marc in a nutshell. He was always on some crazy idea, like last year it was a motorcycle. This year it was house where someone may have died. What was next? Bungee jumping into hell? She shook her head at her husband and wondered, for about the millionth time, who was this person she had married. While she loved him with all her heart, sometimes being married to him was like being married to a mad science—without the science. One crazy idea always spawned another. And his crazy ideas always had to be reined in and that usually entailed a big fight that took them days to recover from. But this crazy idea? Living in a house where someone may or may not have been murdered? No. This idea was a big, fat no. And she didn’t look forward at all to the ensuing fight this one would cause. She shuddered at the thought.

  “I said I don’t think they were!” Marc said, exasperated. “All I know is that it happened a long time ago.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “When?”

  “A couple of years,” he said, again with the nonchalance.

  Harmony gasped slightly at him. “A couple of years? Seriously? That’s not that long ago!”

  Marc was getting frustrated, she could tell and she knew she had that effect on him, always had, particularly in these types of situations. Sure, maybe she rode him a little hard to keep him on his toes and he was always having to explain himself, much like a three-year-old who’s been repeatedly caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but if she didn’t? Well, they’d be moving into houses where people died. And that just would not do.

  “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I was told!”

  She shook her head at him. One day he had to grow up and get over some of these ideas he had. He really wanted to look like a big shot, that was all. He wanted the fancy cars and motorcycles and now the house. He wanted to look successful so he could feel successful. And the fact was, he was successful, very much so. He was one of those people who could sell ice to an Eskimo. And he was getting more successful as the days passed. He was just not successful enough yet to plunk down a few million on house like this. And, she knew, he did some of this in part to make her proud. He pushed himself to be more and more successful so she would love him even more than she already did. He was like that. But he didn’t have to impress her. She’d been along for the ride, after all. She’d been through the ups and the downs. But she wasn’t comfortable with this. No matter how beautiful and spectacular the house. Harmony was a little superstitious and she didn’t like the idea of moving into a house that may or may not have been the site of a death. You just didn’t do stuff like that. You didn’t tempt fate.

  Marc took her hand and smiled softly at her. “Let’s just go in and have a look, okay? Then we can leave. I am going to sell this house to someone and I need to take a look inside and get some measurements and stuff.”

  Harmony clamped her mouth shut, mostly in an attempt to keep the fury she was feeling at Marc abated. She eyed him and shook her head. “You are going to make me thin-lipped.”

  “Well, I hope not,” he said. “Can we go in or not?”

  “Alright, but you owe me.”

  “And—”

  She quickly intercepted, “You’re not changing my mind, Marc.”

  He leaned back and gave her a look like he knew she would change her mind and very soon. She almost smiled at him but stopped herself just in time. While he didn’t often get his way with her, sometimes the tide did turn in his favor, but she wasn’t going to give him an inch on this one. If she did, he’d take the proverbial mile, just like the time that he casually mentioned moving to Los Angeles, telling her that it would be a “great idea.” The next thing she knew, they were packing their bags and headed west.

  She quickly let him know she would not be swayed on this subject with a simple, “Nope.”

  “Let’s just go in and get this over with, then,” he muttered.

  “You still owe me one,” she said.

  “Always do,” he replied.

  Of course, the interior of the house was just as spectacular as the exterior. Having been completely renovated three or so years previously, the expert house flippers had not left any detail—or any square inch—undone. The house had all new wiring, plumbing, insulation and windows. And, as soon as Harmony entered, she could tell this house was solid. She could tell this house was good. She felt it in her bones and she saw it with her eyes. And, once she took it all in, there was a visible shift in her mood. Despite her initial misgivings, the house took on a whole new meaning to her and that meaning was home. She felt at home. She felt like this was her house, not just the dream house she’d always wanted, but her house and it wasn’t so much welcoming her in and glad that she stopped by, but it was welcoming her home.

  If this were a movie, this would be the part where the camera would do a wide shot from the foyer to show the audience just how impressive the house really was. It would cut back to Harmony and her reaction to the space and then it would pan the room slowly, giving everyone a good look, too, at what Harmony was seeing. And what she was seeing was a wide-open space with an oversized living area to the left and a kitchen to the right and in front of the kitchen, a dining space. Just spaces, no walls, just complete and beautiful open concept living. And the thing was, this was the way it had initially been designed. It had only been updated cosmetically. The ceilings were tall and laid with beautiful tongue-in-groove planks painted a nice, soft white and a walnut stained solid wood beam ran down the middle and helped hold up the roof. The floors were a beautiful clean terrazzo and looked as good as the day they were installed when the house was built.

  But not only were the finishes impressive but also the styling. The house was furnished with the perfect mix of mid-century modern furniture and current modern with a few pieces of Danish modern thrown in for good measure. The kitchen was awe-inspiring with its white slab-front cabinets and Carrera marble countertops and top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances. To the back of the house near the living area, there was a wall—yes, a wall—of accordion glass doors that lead out to the patio and the pool. It was so perfect, it looked like it was getting ready for its close-up.

  Harmony could barely contain her excitement. She couldn’t take her eyes off the space and it began to show in her actions. She squealed a little and shook her fists like the frustration of seeing something wonderful and not being able to partake in it was killing her.

  Marc eyed her. “Stop that. You sound like Lemongrab.”

  “I can’t,” Harmony said. “This house is like my dream.”

  “Comes furnished, too,” he told her.

  She turned to him and her mouth dropped. But she was still so much in awe she couldn’t find the energy to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved, so she just breathed, “I hate you.”

  Marc grinned and held out his hand to indicate she should keep looking. She did that and looked up at the beam again and then her eyes followed the beam from the foyer and all the way down the hall where she guessed the bedrooms were. That thing was huge! She wondered briefly where they would have gotten such a big piece of wood, then her eyes settled on the living spaces, taking in the living area first. A beautiful modern sofa sat in front of a breathtaking fireplace which was just plastered in stark white, as were all the walls. A big, rustic piece of wood served as the mantelpiece and above that, a huge—and very expensive looking—flat-screen TV had been inset into the wall so it just sort of blended in. On either side of the couch were two chairs, one a well-worn but funky vintage mid-century piece with the perfect patina of brown leather that swiveled and the other and a black leather Eames lounge chair whose matching ottoman was on the other side of the fireplace. This excited Harmony.

  “That’s an Eames chair!” she squealed and raced over to it, then sat down and swiveled. She’d always, always wanted an Eames chair. She felt the leather then grinned up at Marc. “I’m at a loss for words. Are we in a dream?
”

  “Feels like it, doesn’t it?” he asked and smiled back at her. “It’s like this is what we’ve always wanted. It’s like this house was made for us.”

  She smiled then bit her bottom lip. She was beginning to really, really fall in love. Like, totally. She’d only seen houses like this on sites on the internet or in magazines. And, of course, in the movies. She never suspected she’d ever actually be in one and get to explore it. She looked down at the rug on the floor. It was an oversized, well-worn Persian beauty that was once red but had faded over time to a soft pink. It went perfectly with the décor and added to the ambience of the room. If she had ever envisioned designing a house, she would have designed it just like this. She grinned at Marc who looked very pleased with the results of his efforts. She knew he wouldn’t dare say anything but he was very, very pleased at her reaction.

  “Come on,” he said and motioned for her to get up. “Let’s check out the kitchen.”

  Harmony hopped up and followed Marc into the kitchen. She stopped at the six-burner gas stove and her mouth dropped. “I could really do some cooking on that stove!” she squealed and turned on one of the burners. It lit up immediately. She turned it off and turned to the side by side refrigerator and opened the refrigerated side door and peered in. It was huge. She could store a lot of food in there.

  “That’s true,” Marc said. “You could cook a lot of good food in here.”

  She smiled at him, loving him now more than ever and looked around the kitchen. This could work, she thought with satisfaction and nodded to herself. And she needed a kitchen like this to work in. She had a very popular food blog with a steadily growing following. She came up with recipes, checked out new restaurants and found fast ways to prepare delicious yet healthy foods. But she didn’t limit herself to just that. She also made Southern food meals consisting of bbq ribs, fried chicken, cornbread and other staples. And she posted on an almost daily basis. It was a lot of work, but she made good money and really enjoyed herself.

  “If this house were a man, I’d screw its brains out,” Harmony said out of nowhere.

  Marc cracked up at her, shaking his head. “Well, since that’s not possible, how about me? I wouldn’t mind my brains getting screwed out.”

  Harmony stared at him then cracked up. “God! You get on my nerves!” She watched as he moved over to her and took her by the waist. She stared up at him and into his beautiful blue eyes. Then she realized what was going on as reality set in. She just didn’t want to set herself up for a great disappointment. “What are trying to talk me into here, Marc?”

  “Nothing. I just love you is all and I want the best for you.”

  She needed to set him straight and she needed to do it now. “Listen, honey, even if this place is selling below market value, we’d never be able to afford it. My food blog is really popular but it doesn’t pay enough to cover something like this and, while you make good money selling houses, well… Ditto.”

  “You know we do well,” he said. “And we’ve saved for this for five years. We have a good down payment.”

  “But still…” She paused and got frustrated. “Oh, I am so mad! This situation makes me so mad!”

  “You want it, though, don’t you?” he asked.

  “You know full well that I do,” she said. “I mean, of course I want it! Anyone would want it! But, besides the fact that we can’t afford it, someone died here. Probably violently. That’s just bad mojo.”

  He sighed, “Maybe.” He stared at her then looked away. “But maybe we can afford it.”

  “I don’t think so, Marc.”

  He pulled away from her and they both looked around the kitchen and sighed simultaneously. Then he seemed to remember something, pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen. Harmony watched him until he held the phone up for her to see something on the screen. Her mouth dropped.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “That is the number the seller wants,” he told her.

  Amazingly the number was within reach and probably about half of what the house was actually worth. It was a fire sale, plain and simple. But, as with all fire sales, there was probably some damage the naked eye couldn’t detect. But this couldn’t be right. It just didn’t make sense. There had to be a reason they were unloading this house so cheaply and that reason would only reveal itself once they’d signed all the papers and moved in. Harmony didn’t know if she was willing to take that chance. This was a pretty big gamble with their life savings and future earnings. She shook her head and said, “There’s no way they only want that for this house! It’s been completely renovated! And it comes furnished!”

  Marc nodded and explained, “Yeah, that’s all they want because they want to unload it. Probably they have bad feelings associated with it and they just want to walk away and forget about it. Maybe because they don’t want to deal with the hassle of open houses and various offers that might fall through and all that crap that comes along with actually selling a house that no one ever really tells you about. It’s not as easy as they make it look on TV, I can tell you that that.”

  “It’s not?” Harmony asked, rolling her eyes.

  “Nope,” Marc replied. “But listen to me. Think of it this way: Maybe it’s our time to get something. Something good. Something we deserve. We’ve been good, Harmony. We’ve been busting our asses for years, living in a crappy apartment with loud, obnoxious and only occasionally fun neighbors, saving every cent we could to eventually buy our dream house. Now we’ve found it and this is it. If we don’t snap it up, someone else will and so fast it will make your head spin.”

  “You’re making my head spin,” Harmony told him.

  “Come on. We can afford it. At this price, we can afford the house and have enough left over for some Two Buck Chuck.”

  Harmony smiled at him and laughed a little. “Well, before I say no again, at least show me the rest of it.”

  The rest of it consisted of a nice office, two guest bedrooms, a bath and an oversized master bedroom, all furnished in the same stylish manner as the living areas. The master bedroom had a huge king platform bed and another Eames chair—this one in white—next a wall covered with floor-to-ceiling light green silk curtains that hung on a track. Facing the bed was another big TV that was inset into the wall like the one in the living room. Below it, a funky mid-century dresser that was painted a beautiful turquoise green.

  “We could each have our own TVs,” Marc said and winked at her. “I could watch my car shows in here and you could watch your food porn—I mean your cooking shows—in the living room. No more fighting over the remote.”

  “Shut up,” she said but did like his rationale.

  He opened a door to reveal the en suite bathroom. Harmony looked in, groaned and shook her head. There was a huge, walk-in, glass-enclosed shower that was lined with beautiful patterned concrete tiles. Though the design was not really accurate for the time period of the house, it worked and worked really well. She stared at the rainfall shower head, then at the handheld shower handles attached to the wall. No detail had been overlooked. Nice.

  There was also a cool looking free-standing tub that was in the shape of an egg, a white double vanity with a Carrera marble countertop and cool, vintage looking white and black hexagon tile on the floor. Tucked in its own little closet, was the toilet. There were also a few feet of built in shelves, made with beautiful reclaimed lumber, for towels and toiletries. It was a dream bath.

  Harmony eyed the tub then groaned, “You’re killing me here.”

  “I think we could have some fun in that,” Marc said and pointed at the shower.

  “I think you’re right,” she said. “But we need to get the hell out of here before you change my mind.”

  “Or not,” he said and winked at her.

  She shook her head and couldn’t help but smile at him, then something occurred to her. “Where is the laundry room?”

  “It�
��s actually in the garage,” he said. “They built a little room for it in there.”

  “Well, damn,” Harmony said and put a hand on her hip. “Now that I don’t like.”

  “It’s an old house,” he told her. “That’s the only place they could fit it in, babe.”

  She thought about that and nodded. “I guess I could make due,” she said, feigning disappointment.

  Marc chuckled and kissed her temple and they went back into the bedroom where he picked up a small remote control off of the nightstand and pushed a button. The curtains suddenly opened, revealing a picture-perfect view of the pool and lush backyard though another set of all glass accordion doors. The way it was framed in the doorway, it looked like a picture of the perfect tropical oasis.

  Harmony gasped. “I will never forgive you for this, Marc.”

  He smiled as she rushed to the door, opened it and stepped out onto the patio. Then he followed her. Harmony stopped a few feet from the pool and took it all in. The pool was new and kidney shaped, which lent to the overall retro feel of the house. Instead of plaster, the pool was tiled with a black matte tile, which gave it this cool, black lagoon feel. And, at the edge of the deep end, it had three bright turquoise concrete cylinder-like objects that rose up from the bottom to just under the surface.

  “What are those?” Harmony asked Marc.

  He said, “I don’t know what they are, just some design aspect the designer must have added on. They look like lily pads, though, don’t they?”

  “They do,” she said and smiled. “That is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Like you could be swimming and then you could swim up to one and sit on it, like a frog or something.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I can see that,” he said and then added, “Oh, by the way, salt water pool.”

  “Cool,” Harmony muttered and kept looking around, seeing all kinds of new things. The landscaping was very tasteful with beautiful flowering bushes and some turf. The stamped concrete patio was clean and fresh looking and scattered here and there were white retro looking lounge chairs with little white tables. It looked like something someone a long time ago would have imagined the future of backyards would be like. It was, in a very odd way, a little science-fiction looking. But it was perfect and the design aesthetic was very much to Harmony’s own. If she could have designed her perfect backyard, this would be it.