“Be a peach and makes us some lunch, will ya? I'll be just a minute.”
Anne swallowed hard. She went back into the kitchen, opened the can of soup and poured it into a pan. She turned on the burner and stirred the soup.
“I'll have to discuss it with my wife,” she heard Nick say, “but I agree with you. I guess we should list on the low side. Go for a fast sale.”
Anne covered the soup pot and took bowls out of the cupboard, one green and one red, cabin originals, antique Fiestaware, the red dishes tinted with a non-toxic uranium glaze. She rinsed and dried the bowls. The deck shuddered under the weight of her husband rising from his chair and walking towards the kitchen.
“I'll call after I've talked to her,” he said, nodding at Anne.
She poured soup into the bowls, got spoons out of the drawer, and set them on the kitchen table. She placed the red bowl in front of her husband.
He clicked off the phone and set it down. “Close to $800,000 for 10 acres with a cabin. Not what I hoped for, but still a nice chunka change.”
“Not interested,” she said.
“You've got to think about this. We could pay cash for a new place in Arizona. You could do whatever you want to it. Cash!”
“I will not sell.” She picked up her spoon, looked at Nick, lifted an eyebrow.
He glared back, picked up his spoon and began eating.
They ate in silence. Anne blew on her soup, the steam drifting toward Nick in thin little wisps, evaporating. She did not look directly at her husband but noted his body language and the shifting expressions on his face—the frustrated furrowed forehead, the angry clenched teeth, tightened jaw.
When he was done, Nick made a production of setting down his spoon, pushing his bowl away, and folding his hands on the table.
“Listen,” he said, “we're at the end of the road. It's inevitable. They will cut through to the development. There will be houses all over those hills. Cars coming and going. It's only a matter of time before we'll be driven out.”
“It's not going to happen,” she said.
“Yeah? How're you going to stop the county from extending their road past this place?” Nick laughed. “You've got 10 acres, but it doesn't include the road.” He stood up and cleared the table. “They'll do what they want.”
“Just like you,” she said.
“I'm thinking about what's best for us.”
“You're thinking about how much money you can get,” she said. “You're thinking about what you can buy.” Anne's mouth twitched in a frenetic fit of words, her finger pointed at Nick, her foot beating a rapid rata tat tat on the floor. “I've got this pristine place that is not asking much of me, not making me want more, that is worth a hell of a lot more than $800,000. To me it's priceless. To you it's worth money you can spend on things. Things that pass away.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “This doesn't pass away. I don't need the next thing. I've got what makes me content. I've got what I need right here, right now.”
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