The Gateway

It had been a lovely hot summer day that became a balmy evening, and the scent of pine sap mingled with the smell of newly cut grass.  As I escorted the Kirks into the house, I felt the temperature drop precipitously, and my heart sank with it:  my ‘hosts’ didn’t like the Kirks.  I hurried to light the ready laid logs in the massive stone fireplace, explaining away the sudden chill by saying that one of the advantages of summer in the mountains was that it was always cool at night.  I really had no idea what I would do if the Kirks became aware of the other ‘occupants’ of the house.  They might change their minds about buying the Gateway, and I knew there was no chance of finding another buyer.  The real estate agent had found no one willing to look at the house more than once, in spite of its beauty and fine condition.  One couple had been enchanted by the grounds and the outside of the house, but when they came to the front door, the husband stopped dead.  He cast around like a dog scenting danger, and I could see gooseflesh rising on his sports shirt clad arms.  All the color left his face, and he turned on his heel and hurried to their car.  When his wife started to protest he turned toward her and yelled, “NO! COME ON!” and dove into the driver’s seat.  Frightened by his ashen face she backed away from the front door and hurried to join him without a word.  Gravel shot high as he gunned the car down the driveway.  What had he sensed before he even walked through the front door?  Would every prospective buyer be warned off so quickly?  The Kirks had conducted their enquiries and even the initial sale documents through their lawyers.  A mutual friend had told them how lovely the grounds are and described the charm of the house, and since Mr. Kirk was avid to belong to the very exclusive Country Club a mile or two down the county road, he signed the initial papers for the purchase of the Gateway sight unseen.  What would happen now if they were scared away, too?