Chapter 9 - Yellow Sticky Terror
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Tessa's head snapped toward me so fast I thought she was going to injure her neck.
"What did you just say?!" she screamed.
"The house is being sold fully furnished if the buyer desires," I said with a calm smile.
"All fixtures and original living room items are included."
"You can't sell my chair!" Tessa yelled, rising slightly from the seat.
"It belonged to Grandpa! It's a family heirloom!"
"Wonderful," I said to the young couple.
"We will list it as an authentic period antique in the contract."
Tessa stood up completely, her face red with anger. It was a historic event: the threat of losing her property was the only force strong enough to pull her out of that chair.
Melissa leaned in close to me and whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
"Ian, I can easily list the chair as an excluded item on the contract."
"Don't you dare," I whispered back.
"That chair stays."
It wasn't about the furniture anymore. That recliner was the symbol of everything wrong with my family's entitlement.
For the next hour, a steady stream of buyers walked through the property while my family attempted endless sabotage.
My mother tried to convince a family with small kids that the backyard was infested with wild raccoons.
She recounted a story from three years ago where a single raccoon knocked over a trash can as if it were a scene from a horror film.
My father joined in, claiming he had to fight off wild animals on the back deck with a broom.
The buyers looked completely bewildered by the entire performance.
And then, at 11:15 AM, the ultimate buyer walked through the front door.
Her name was Denise, and she was accompanied by her husband.
Denise was one of the most prominent regular guests at my flagship restaurant.
"Ian?" Denise asked, stopping in the foyer.
May you like
"I had no idea this was your property listing!"
My father's ears perked up. He saw his chance to ruin the deal.
