Coming Home to Greenleigh

Chapter 40

"Another Chance"
All I ask for is another chanceAll I ask forAll I ask for is another chanceAll I ask forI know the time will comeWhen I will learn to love againI know the time will comeWhen I won't hold on to the pastI know the time will comeWhen I will learn to love againI know the time will comeWhen I won't hold on to the pastWhen I won't hold on to the pastWhen I won't hold on to the pastOnly the brave find hope in a second chanceOnly the brave find hopeI know the time will comeWhen I will learn to love againI know the time will comeWhen I won't hold on to the pastWhen I won't hold on to the pastI know the time will comeWhen I will learn to love againI know the time will comeWhen I won't hold on to the pastI know the time will comeWhen I will learn to love againI know the time will comeWhen I won't hold on to the pastWriter(s): JONATHAN GRANT, PAAVO SILJAMAEKI, ANTHONY MCGUINNESS, JUSTINE SUISSA

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"You know what," Christine complained. "I am just sick of owning that house. I don't want it anymore. Can I sell it to Bob, do you think? Will he take it?"

"You're crazy," Elisabeth said. They were sitting in the parlor, where Christine was painting her toenails and complaining about the fortune she had just spent in window replacements for her house.

"I didn't know that windows needing replacing for God's sake. I mean, windows! Who replaces windows! Windows are holes! Why would you need new ones? I had to replace every single freaking window. I was apparently heating the great outdoors with my brand-new heating system."

"But then you don't have to have storm windows," Elisabeth pointed out. "New windows don't need storm windows. Old windows like mine need storm windows. I know it bites, but now you're all set and you don't have to do the crazy thing where you walk around the house shutting storm windows every November and opening them up in May."

"I hate it," Christine whined. "I'm just so done with this adventure."

"You're lying," Elisabeth said comfortably. "You just like complaining. And asking for pity."

Christine opened her eyes wide at this. "You're just mean!" She pouted, and bent over her toes again. The shade of her nail polish was bright pink, as bright as her bright pink sweater, as bright as the ribbon holding back the cascade of fine blonde hair. It was a dramatic contrast to the muted reds and browns of the parlor, but a welcome contrast. Christine's energy and attitude masked something a bit dark, something that Elisabeth had never had the courage to ask about, but perhaps one day she would know her well enough to venture down that road with her. Christine could not be the successful divorce lawyer that she was without a clear perspective on the darker side of human nature, she thought. And what was more, Christine had never expressed the slightest bit of interest in dating or settling down. There had to be something there, Elisabeth mused.

"Just because you're so happy," Christine muttered. She grabbed a magazine from the table and waved it over her toes.

"I am happy," Elisabeth admitted. She looked around at the room and remembered a very different scene just a short time ago—when she had been getting ready to dispose of all of the old Burnham furniture, the Burnham clutter she had grown up with, and she had pushed all of it into a corner, waiting for the auctioneer to come and take it away. There had been boxes of dishes, first-edition books, and silverware piled up on top of each other, as well as boxes of photographs and diaries that she hadn't known what to do with. She remembered sobbing with frustration over the impossibility of it all, and letting Gunnar reassure her that she could let other people sever her relationship with Greenleigh for her. She could let the auctioneer cart away the boxes of antiques. She could let Gunnar's pals with the pickup truck take the boxes of junk to the dump.