Chapter 4: The Price of Dreams

There was so much junk in the house, cleaning it would be a huge task, so my parents decided to pack up our things back home and move in bit by bit.

We made endless lists, bought extra boxes at the hardware store, and borrowed a rusty dolly from Uncle Mike. When we got home, the neighbors gathered to gossip about how my parents had bought an old house in Savannah, munching on potato chips as they chatted.

They sat on folding chairs in front yards, plastic cups of sweet tea sweating in their hands, the cicadas drowning out the oldies radio. The sun was setting, bags of Ruffles on their laps, voices carrying across the hedges. "The Miller family must be crazy, listening to a little girl’s whims."

Mrs. Harper’s voice rang out above the rest, her mouth full of chips. "After saving all that money, they buy that kind of place in the city? I wouldn’t live there even if it was free."

"Exactly! Last time I told Maddie’s mom to have another son, she didn’t even bother to answer me," Mrs. Harper chimed in, tossing chip crumbs everywhere.

She dusted her hands on her slacks, scowling at our driveway. "A daughter’s fine, but it’s a son who keeps a roof over your head. You’ll see, the Millers’ll wish they’d listened."

She finished with a dramatic sigh, and the others nodded along, but their eyes darted away when Mom caught them staring. Grandma Carol was a bit skeptical when she first heard, but as soon as she learned I liked the house, she changed her tune.

She clapped her hands and announced to anyone who’d listen, “If Maddie likes it, then buy it. Don’t listen to their nonsense. At least now we have a house in the city.”

She squeezed my shoulder, proud as anything. My parents thought the same and started packing up our things at home.

They hummed along to country radio, folding towels and stacking plates, turning worry into excitement. The next day, Dad got a phone call and came home looking dazed.

He dropped his keys in the fruit bowl, mouth hanging open. "Daniel, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!" Mom waved her hand in front of Dad’s face.

She eyed him warily, the packing tape still stuck to her wrist. After a long pause, Dad said, "Rachel, the house we just bought is going to be torn down."

His words hung heavy, the whole room falling still except for the ticking of the kitchen clock. Outside, a single firefly floated up past the window, as if reminding us that even the wildest dreams can sometimes burn bright, then vanish in a blink. But as the night pressed in, I promised myself—I wasn’t letting this house go. Not without a fight.