Free If You Were Here by Jen Lancaster Page A

“Whoa, slow down there, Speed Racer. I saw you yesterday and you hadn’t even mentioned anything worth a second look. Now you’re what? Making an offer? Already under contract? How can that be? You are not Little Miss Snap Decision. I mean, last week you spent twenty minutes at the Whole Foods meat counter debating between the prime rib eyes and the grass-fed filets. But you could pick a house—the biggest investment of your life—in an afternoon? Tell me how this works.”
    My words come rushing out. “Okay, number one, protein is a priority in my life, and number two, because the universe essentially rented a billboard and said, ‘Hey, Mia, this is the place.’ It’s fate. I am destined to live in this house.”
    Kara grabs me for a quick hug. “Yay! I’m so happy for you! Tell me everything . . . starting with how you’re not buying in my parents’ neighborhood!”
    I take a big breath and try to steady myself. “No worries. We’re going to be east-siders, so you’re totally safe. Anyway, we’re up in the Cambs yesterday and Liz’s looking at her MLS printouts. She’d pulled a listing that was outside of our set budget, but she said there was something about it that made her want to take me there.”
    “Pumpkin, that ‘something’ is called ‘commission.’ ”
    I cut Tracey a sideways glance before continuing. “So, like, Liz is all, ‘There’s an interesting notation in the remarks section,’ and I’m like, ‘What?’ and she’s like, ‘Lemme read the whole thing,’ and I’m like—”
    “And you say you have trouble mastering the modern teenage dialect.”Tracey smirks.
    “Ignoring you. Anyway, she goes, ‘I guess this house has a claim to fame. Someone used it in a movie a while back.’ Which, hey, that’s kind of cool, right? Then we look at a bunch of lame and boring houses and I forget she mentioned it. Then we eventually pull up and I see what she’s talking about, and right then and there in the passenger seat of Liz’s Volvo, I shat myself.”
    “Oh, sweetie!” Kara gasps. “Are you okay?”
    “Figurative shat, 53 I’m fine.” I take another huge breath and I inadvertently start grinning, remembering yesterday. “I’m actually pretty goddamned great, to tell you the truth. Listen, do me a proper. Close your eyes and picture this. Imagine yourself going down a long, circular driveway to a big brown-and-white Tudor tucked back in the woods. And in the distance? You can hear the lake.” I clear my throat and try to stop beaming. 54 “ Ahem , big lake.”
    “Mia, that sounds awesome!” Kara gushes. “Particularly since I can just sneak up Whitefish Bay Road to get there and I won’t be spotted.”
    “You really think your parents or their friends are going to have a watch out on the roads you might drive, all in an effort to bust you if you don’t stop by home?” Tracey demands.
    Kara begins to gaze off into the distance with a melancholy expression all over her face. “Without a shadow of a doubt.”
    “Um, hello? Not done! So, you’re imagining this house, yes?” Then I realize I don’t actually have to have my eyes shut during this exercise and I open them. “Now visualize a big picture window. Do you see it?”
    Tracey’s and Kara’s lids are firmly closed, but one of Tracey’s eyebrows is getting dangerously close to raising itself in exasperation.
    “Envision this big window and on the other side is a shiny glass dining table and it’s, um . . . all aglow , as if being lit by candles on a birthday cake. And two people are kind of hunkered over it. Now as you’re taking in this scene you start to hear the opening notes of a really amazing song, like . . . ‘If You Were Here’ by the Thompson Twins.”
    Tracey’s eyes snap open. “You’ve just completely ripped off the final scene of Sixteen Candles .”
    Kara does the math a couple of beats quicker than Tracey. “No ... no! No way!”
    I say nothing and just nod.
    Kara begins to