Driving down the highway, I had a million thoughts swimming in my head. Out of all my worries, wonders, and random TV channels, one thought kept surfacing from the pool of mind troublers, "What if I'm not ready and ruin the whole business?" If age counted in as the answer I would have been fine. I wanted this Bed & Breakfast ever since I was an early teen. That was nearly sixteen years ago, but even with my thirty years on me, I still wondered if I had what it took to manage it.
At least I had my sisters to help. Shiloh and Hazel wanted to join me in my quest for business managing, and they have been very encouraging, as well as many of my relatives and friends. I wouldn't have made this far without them, and 'this far' is driving in my Lamborghini Gallaro Nera, with my sister, to the realtors'. I tried not to think about it though. Every time I did I got dizzy with anticipation. Not good while driving.
After looking at the endless list of houses capable of Inn life, the one we're about to purchase was our favorite. With my picks, like the wrap-around porch, tower, and large room for our living room, I loved it. Shiloh's reason for the house matched mine, except a childhood favorite, spiral staircase. The spiral staircase was one we had to do without though. And Hazel, well, let's just say she has plans. Party plans. Yes, our witty, baby of the family is all grown up, enough to host a grand-opening party when we're settled. I remembered the time when I would change her diapers, rock her to sleep, and play Hide-and-Seek. I didn't say much about those times around others. Hazel hated it. She was so excited to host a party that she passed this chance to the Realtors' Office. Instead she was getting decorations and sending out invitations. If Shiloh was tempted to help her she didn't show it. She was babbling at the moment of a series we were watching, of all things. I had a hard time following every sentence. I was too worried or I was dreaming. And there was also that long list of to-do's, ever growing: painting, repairing, rearranging, more painting, unpacking, some more painti-
"Avé!" Shiloh called while pointing, "Right!" I followed her finger and found she was showing me the exit. I turned the steering wheel. You were dazing again, I scolded myself, You should learn to not do that while driving. I brushed a strand of my dark honey-colored hair out of my face. I didn't have time to change out of my old clothing after visiting my parents. Their small farmette is one to see. Their Nubian goat had kids in late March and they are now seven months old. The chickens are flourishing. We had a Chesapeake Bay Retriever when I was an older girl. Coffee died a few years ago, but Mom and Dad got another puppy last year. Mom's Great Dane, Peony, pounces on me every time I come around to help out. I never understand why they need me, they never seem to actually need help. I end up sitting in the living room chatting. It occurs to me that they really miss having their kids around the house. I enjoy seeing them whenever I get the chance.
We finally pulled into the parking lot. We stepped out into the cool, October air. I looked up. The sky looked even more gloomy than when we got into the car. Shiloh opened the door with a beep that rang out when one opened the door. I stepped into the bathroom to change into suitable clothes, while Shiloh signed the appointment papers. I came out of the bathroom wearing black pants, a cream blouse, and a denim jacket. Even with my hair tied into a ponytail, it still reached my lower back. I looked at the clerk Shiloh just handed the papers to. She reminded me of a raven, with beady eyes that look at you in the most piercing of ways, a beak-like nose, and a thin mouth. We waited for about ten minutes when Miss Raven's only full sentence to us reminded me of what the clerk in the movie "Despicable Me" might say; "Mr. Prestan will see you now."
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