We found several homes that we liked and I arranged for some walkthroughs on the following weekend. They were all in the same neighborhood as my townhouse but single family homes. Bella insisted on helping with the purchase of the house but I refused her help. No matter what, I’d be purchasing the home outright. If the house was a foreclosure, like several of the properties that I found, it would be severely under cost as well. There was one house that I was set on and it would be perfect for Bella and me. However, she’d probably have a heart attack at the cost. Even with the foreclosure, it was nearly six hundred thousand dollars.
But it was gorgeous. Cherry wood floors. Mahogany built in shelving throughout the house. The walls were painted a warm beige color and it was very elegant. My mom would have a field day with the decorating. I’d sell the townhouse with all of the furnishings, minus my music loft and Emma’s bedroom. They furniture was cast offs from my marriage with Jessica and it truly wasn’t my style.
I spoke with my realtor and filled out the preliminary paperwork to sell my townhouse. I’d finalize the papers when Bella and I find what we wanted. Which, hopefully was the dream home with cherry wood floors and a gourmet kitchen.
On Friday, I had a court mandated visitation with Emma and Jessica. It was going to be at my townhouse. I was going to be there along with a social worker. Jessica was not happy about that, but at least she got a chance to see Emma. It had nearly been a month since Emma had last seen her mother. When I picked up Emma from school, I could tell that she was not looking forward to the visit.
“Can’t Bella just come over?” Emma griped. “I don’t want to see her.”
“The judge says you have to,” I sighed.
“Well, she can come over. That doesn’t mean I have to talk to her, right?” Emma said, glaring out the window.
“Technically, no. But, I raised you better than that, Emma,” I said sternly. “She’s still your mom.”
“She doesn’t act like it,” Emma snapped. “I’m just…something that gets in her way. When I was over at her place, she would put me in front of the television and do things with Mike.”
“Like what?” I asked, barely containing my temper.
“I heard a lot of moaning, Daddy. And swearing,” Emma blushed. “If she’s not with Mike, then she’s not home, Daddy. I hate her.”
“Emma, don’t say that,” I said. I really didn’t want my baby girl hating her mother but I didn’t blame her. “Your mom has made some questionable decisions but don’t hate her…”
“Why can’t you and Bella get married and she can be my mommy?” Emma snarled.
“Emma, we’re working on it,” I said as I parked my car in the garage of my townhouse.