As we drove up to a beautiful old Victorian-style house with a nicely decorated lawn in the middle of Brookline, one of the most coveted neighborhoods in the Boston area, I gave a low whistle. This was a far cry from the crappy apartments where I had hung my hat growing up.
“Wow, this place must be worth a couple million easy.” It wasn’t quite a mansion, but any nice homes in this area were worth beaucoup bucks.
“This was Maya’s grandparent’s home. She and David could never have afforded to live here otherwise. Instead of a mortgage, they—uh, she has an astronomical tax bill, so it may as well be like paying rent.” Devon pulled into the driveway behind several other cars.
“Who else is here?” I asked. I needed to mentally prep myself for new people. Being social wasn’t really my forte.
