Open House, Open Heart
by Kate Willoughby
Isn’t it funny how
things work out sometimes? It all started when my husband and I decided to sell
the house and find something smaller—less yard to take care of, less house to
keep clean, etc. My daughter, Emily, came at my request to go through her old
stuff and decide what she wanted to keep. I was thumbing through some sheet
music when I heard Emily heave a sigh.
“What’s up, Em?” I
asked.
She smiled and held
up an old playbill from a production of Hamlet.
“This little pamphlet embodies all the unspoken yearning of a young teenage
girl.”
“Aren’t all
teenagers young?” I asked.
Emily laughed. “You
know what I mean.”
“What were you
longing for? A life on the stage?” I felt a twinge of motherly guilt. Had Emily
harbored a secret yearning to perform that I had failed to nurture and
encourage? I had always thought she was happy being a caterer, especially now
that she was starting her own business.
“Me?” she asked
grinning. “Heck no. I couldn’t act my way out of a paper bag. No, it was a boy
I wanted. John Davis. My English Lit teacher took the class on a field trip to
see Shakespeare. John was sitting in front of me and I didn’t see that play at
all. All I saw was him.” She chuckled. “Well, the back of his head, at least.”
“You’re never going
to believe this,” I said, “but he’s our real estate agent.”
Emily’s eyes
widened. “What?”
“Yes. And he’s
single,” I added. “Want me to—”
“No!” she blurted, her
cheeks turning red. “Don’t you dare play matchmaker, Mom. Promise me.”
The next day, John
and I discussed the particulars of our first open house.
“I like to provide
some sort of refreshment for the potential buyers, usually donuts and coffee,”
he said. “But to tell you the truth, I’m getting tired of the donuts.”
“You know,” I found
myself saying, even though I knew Emily might kill me, “my daughter is a
caterer and her mini scones and muffins are out of this world and a step above
donuts if I do say so myself. She’s just starting out on her own after five
years working for someone else, and if she could display some of her brochures,
it would be great advertising for her.”
“I think my mouth is
watering already,” John said, grinning.
When I called Emily
to arrange it, she accused me of going back on my promise, but I insisted I
hadn’t. “I swear it was all business. For all he knows, you’re married with six
kids and a parakeet,” I said. “Just think of it as networking.”
The day of the open
house, John seemed happy with how everything looked and the table I’d set up in
the entry. He placed the flyers outlining the features of the house there,
along with a stack of his business cards and a sign-in sheet. Em walked in not
five minutes later with a big pink pastry box filled with goodies. She looked
wonderful in a tasteful business suit. I could tell she’d taken extra care with
her appearance.
He greeted her with
a wide smile. “Emily, I don’t know if you remember me, but we took English Lit
together. John Davis.” They shook hands. “I realized who you were from the
family portrait in the living room.”
“Of course I
remember you,” she replied smoothly, as if she hadn’t memorized the back of his
head eight years ago.
I forced myself to
mumble something about making coffee and left the room. It was torture, I tell
you, pure torture not to listen in.
They didn’t even
notice me when I brought the first pot of coffee to fill the huge dispenser
John had brought. I caught snippets of their conversation and it sounded like
they were catching up. By the time I poured the second pot in, he was listening
to her talk about her catering business, which I took as a good sign. A good
husband knows how to listen. Before I could bring out the third pot, Em
scurried into the kitchen.
“Mom! You’ll never
guess what happened.” Excitement sparkled in her eyes. “John loves my scones so
much that he wants me to provide them for all his open houses from now on.”
“Em, that’s
wonderful!”
We did end up
getting a couple of offers on the house that day, which made my husband happy.
He hoped to make a nice profit, but I had my heart set on a new son-in-law. And
you know what? A year later, that’s exactly what I got.




























