I sit in my car outside my childhood home. The weeds are as tall as the broken windows that are now replaced with plywood. The cement stairs are crumbling and slanted, making it a danger just to step foot in the house.

The need to make this a home others will love burns inside of me. One that a family will cherish and a neighborhood will smile upon. It wasn’t my happily ever after, but it will be someone else’s.

A black sedan pulls up right behind me so I turn off the ignition and step out of my car with my legal pad in hand.

“Miss Kelly, I’m thinking I deserve an extra percent on my commission for getting us in here so fast.”

My Realtor, a man in his fifties with a heavy gold chain around his neck, his wrists and his pinky finger adorned with the same, is good at what he does and he’s negotiated some amazing deals for me in the past. Especially when I’m going up against some of the most bullheaded developers in the area. Small fish in a little pond doesn’t even cut it when it comes to describing me. They want the buck and I want to pull out the beauty.

“Hey, George and I’ve told you to call me, Madison.”

He holds out short and stubby fingers for me to shake.

We do some quick small talk and then it’s on to business as usual as he walks up the sidewalk I used to play childhood games on like Step on a Crack and Break Your Mother’s Back.

“As you know, it’s a three bedroom, one and a half bath. Basement, small kitchen. Yard is decent. It’s up for auction next Tuesday.”

“The last thing I need is a bidding war.”

George opens the door and the foulest smell has us using the collars of our shirts to cover our noses. Staring down at the junk filled floor has me thankful I wore my boots.

“I have to say the commission checks are nice but looking at houses with you always makes me want to shower after.” George stays by the front door.

He always does and it doesn’t bother me. The first time he showed me a house there was a rat that had drowned in one of the toilets. It was already decomposing and explained the smell, but he was fighting his gag reflex that entire showing.

“Call the fire department if I don’t come back in fifteen minutes.” I put on my face mask and head through the front area to the back.

I dig through the massive amounts of newspaper and magazines on top of an old dining room table. Stepping through more floor rugs that are wet and soggy doesn’t leave a lot of hope for the floorboards.

When my parents and I lived here, everything was bright and cheery. My mom would grow plants on the ledge by the front door. Herbs in small planters in the bay window of the kitchen. The smells of freshly baked cookies or pot roast were second nature while I was out playing in the yard.

Then the bad start to seep into the good. The days my mom never got out of her bed. Or the fights in the kitchen where spaghetti sauce ended up splattered all over the wall.

The bones are good in this house and has loads of potential. I refuse to let it be the ugliest house on the block.

Heading back to the front door after one quick pass through the top floor, I find George typing away on his phone, still as a statue.

“This is it,” I say when he glances up at me.

“Are you sure? I think this might be the worst you’ve ever taken on.”

He’s right. I’ll be digging into my savings and probably won’t make nearly the profit I usually do, but I remember why I turned to flipping houses to begin with. The money at the end is nice, but it’s about bringing out the best of what’s already there, not building something shiny and new like a developer would.

“I’m sure. I just have to beat out Oswald. They’d cut corners and make a steal on this property.”

“Yeah, I always steer my clients clear of his places.”

We exit the house and I stand on the porch that I fear could cave in at any moment. I take a moment to look around my old neighborhood, staring at the houses up and down the street.

I don’t understand.

“How can it be just this house in such disrepair? They have flowerbeds.” I point to the house directly across from us. “They have a gate surrounding their front lawn.” I point to two houses down.

George shrugs. “You know the city. There’s no rhyme or reason. Sometimes someone elderly dies and they have no family to take care of their assets or their families want to hang on to it until the market goes up, but they don’t maintain it.” He takes the steps down and turns on the sidewalk, staring back up at the house.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” We continue down the walkway and he moves to shake my hand but turns it into a fist bump instead.

“Let me know when you’re ready to list.”

I fist bump him, laughing out loud. “Thanks, George.”

I arrive home and open the door to my house to find Lauren flying down the stairs. She puts her finger to her lips and sneaks into the hall closet.

A second later, a half-dressed Vanessa stomps down from upstairs. There’s no urgency in her steps, but her eyes are bouncing all around as she descends.

“What is going on?” I ask.

“Lauren gave that Bianco guy my number.” She raises a hairbrush in her hand. “Now I’m going to beat her to death.”

I raise both eyebrows. The two fight like sisters and I think I’m the middle child.

“You might want to reconsider. Cristian could be the one to answer the 911 call.”

She pretend swats at me with the hairbrush but I just laugh at her.

“I’m starving.” I head to the kitchen, cringing at the sound of furniture sliding on the hardwood floors. “Do I need to remind you that I still need to sell this place at some point?”

“Don’t worry. Those nifty felt pads you bought are doing the trick,” Vanessa calls out.

I open the door and investigate what’s in the fridge.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Vanessa says in a singsong voice from the other room.

Did I say I was the middle child? I meant the mother. I’m like the damn guardian of these two women.

“Put the hairbrush down and we’ll talk,” Lauren says, and Vanessa must try to follow the sound of her voice because I can hear her running toward the foyer.

Lauren’s small enough to hide behind the vacuum in the closet and Vanessa would miss her.

Cracking open a soda, I pour it into a glass and raise my voice so she’ll hear me. “I don’t get what the big deal is,” I say to Vanessa. “Go on one date with the guy. I can’t say enough good things about Cristian.” I sit on the stool at the breakfast bar so I have a bird’s eye view into the entryway and watch her continue to play this childish game of hide and seek.

“He’s got two strikes against him. One, he wears a badge. Two, he honors the badge.”

“Wouldn’t that be the point of his job…to do it well?” I sip my drink.

Vanessa crinkles her brows. “It’s admirable and I’m sure the girl he ends up with will love that about him. I’m not that girl.”

“No one said anything about marriage. It’s a date. For charity.”

Vanessa opens up the hall closet, jumps in front of the opening and pushes back all our coats. “Hah!”

Lauren’s not there, which means she’s snuck off to a different hiding spot now.

“Damn you!” Vanessa hits the back of the brush on her palm.

“Back to you being upset that he has your phone number…” I say, trying to understand her issue.

“He called me today. He didn’t text, he called.”

“The nerve of the man.” I sip my drink, grabbing a banana from the counter.

“Who calls anymore? It’s desperate if you ask me.”

“Or considerate,” I offer.

She rolls her eyes, moving to the bathroom doorway now. “You date him then.” She raises both eyebrows before stepping into the bathroom.

If only my heart didn’t skip a beat when I look at his brother.

“Oh, that’s right.” She peeks her head out. “You love his brother.”

“No, I don’t.”

She heads back into the bathroom and I can hear her opening and closing the cupboard doors. Meanwhile, a crawling Lauren still dressed in her scrubs finds refuge behind our kitchen island. Again she puts her finger to her lips like we’re six and this game actually means anything.

“I saw the twinkle in your eye.” Vanessa enters the kitchen, her long blonde hair half curled and half straight, and I realize she must’ve been in the middle of getting ready for her night. She either has a date or she’s off to her mystery job. I really hope the two aren’t combined together.

“There was no twinkle. Sure I had a crush on him in high school, but hello, I’m nine years older and wiser now.”

“Wiser how?” Vanessa sits down at the stool next to me because this is Vanessa. She’s grown bored with the game whereas Lauren would play for the rest of the night—she’s that competitive.

“Wise to the fact that my life is not a movie where the ugly duckling turns into a swan and gets the handsome prince. This is reality and you date within your level.”

“Level?” Vanessa grabs my soda and takes a sip.

“You know fives with fives, eights with eights. Sure maybe there’s a seven and six somewhere together. Tens only go with sixes when they want something from them.”

Vanessa’s face falls to a frown. “And what do you think you are?”

It’s a test. I’m sure of it. “A six.”

“A six?” Her mouth hangs open.

“Is there an echo in here?”

Vanessa slides off the stool and stands in front of me. “Stand up,” she demands, using her authoritative voice she inherited from her father.

“I’m eating.”

She cocks her head to the side.

I roll my eyes and stand.

“Go stand in front of the mirror.” She points to the gold-framed mirror I found at a flea market and re-finished into an antique looking mirror someone would pay hundreds for at Pottery Barn.

“I’m not playing this game. Yeah, yeah, you and Lauren think I’m beautiful. I’m not saying I’m a two. A six is completely respectable.”

“Just go stand in front of it.” She pushes lightly on my shoulders.

I drag my feet, chomping on my banana the whole time. “Okay, what now?” I look at my reflection.

“Your eyes are stunning. Your hair is silky and smooth. Your figure is spank bank material if you’d stop hiding it. Can you honestly say you’re only a six?”

I shrug. “I feel more comfortable dating in my division.” Turning back around, I grab my soda and head to the couch, leaving Lauren hiding behind the island.

“Oh, Maddie, you’re impossible sometimes.” Vanessa follows behind me. “Ouch!”

I turn around before I can sit down to find Lauren with the brush in her hand and Vanessa’s clutching her ass with a pained look on her face. “Damn you!”

Lauren runs up the stairs laughing maniacally as though she’s ready for round two, but Vanessa sits down next to me rather than follow.

“How do I blow off this guy nicely?” she asks. “I can’t have him going around telling the district what a bitch the Commander’s daughter is. My dad would kill me.”

“Just tell him you have work. Speaking of—” I straighten my back and turn to face her, wanting to broach the subject of exactly where she’s earning money since she’s been so cryptic, but she stands quickly.

“Good idea. I’ll just say I have no idea what my schedule is going to be like.” She leans forward, kissing my cheek. “You’re so smart and beautiful, you little eleven you.” She winks and runs up the stairs.

A few seconds later I hear her scream, “Lauren, grow the fuck up!” A door slams.

The joys of living with my two best friends.

My phone dings next to me and when I glance at the name, my stomach flips.

Because you’re not a dork who loves board games.

My thumbs hover over the phone. Should I respond? Is he expecting something more back from me or is that the end of our conversation?

God, I’m so terrible at this stuff.

I press the thumbs up emoji and no three dots appear. I’m ashamed to admit that I watched for them for a whole two minutes.

I have no idea how I’m going to get through our date without making a fool of myself like I did before. Maybe I should consider myself lucky that I’m the only one who remembers the first time around.