Page 160 of Clinically Bewitched
“Listening.”
“For what?”
“The house’s heartbeat.”
“Houses don’t have heartbeats.”
“This one does. It’s very faint. And very sad.”
“I need a drink,” I said.
“It’s eleven-thirty in the morning,” Winnie pointed out.
“I don’t care.”
Fitz was still filming. “This is going on YouTube.”
“It absolutely is not.”
“It absolutely is. I’m calling it ‘Surgeon Has Breakdown while House Hunting.’”
“I’m not having a breakdown.”
“You’re having multiple breakdowns. Simultaneously.”
The agent was backing slowly toward the door. “I’ll just... wait outside.”
“Good idea,” Vivian said.
House Three: Saturday, 1:00 PM
“Okay,” Fitz said, standing in the middle of a modern open-concept house with floor-to-ceiling windows. “This one is objectively perfect.”
He was right. Five bedrooms. Four bathrooms. Finished basement. Large backyard. Top-rated school district. Within budget.
Perfect.
“The energy is chaotic,” Nathan said.
“Chaotic how?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level and failing.
“Just... scattered. Unfocused. Like the house can’t decide what it wants to be.”
“It’s a house,” I said, my voice rising. “It doesn’t want to be anything. It just exists. It provides shelter. That’s it. That’s the entire job description of a house.”
“Everything has energy, Julien,” Gabriel said. “Everything has intention.”
“Houses don’t have intentions!”
“This one does. And its intention is confused.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I’m confused,” the agent said weakly. This was her third showing with us. She looked as if she were reconsidering her career choices.
“Join the club,” I muttered.
Quinton was in the kitchen, opening cabinets again.
