No Buddy

”How old is Flora?” I asked Martha Hart. Martha puffed her cigarette and kept an eye on the T.V. in the corner of the kitchen.

“Nine,” said Martha, sighing through a wet cough. “She’s nine, and in her own little world.”

I had met Flora briefly with her dad outside. Flora looked me over with a steady gaze as she shook my hand. She possessed a quiet and serious nature despite her wild curly red hair and the smiling beagle dog dancing at her side. Mr. Hart asked about the difference between personal property and fixtures, to be included in the sale of their property.

“Personal property,” I said, “are free-standing things like refrigerators and furniture, and aren’t included in a sale without a seller’s consent. Fixtures, on the other hand, are attached to the property, things like ceiling fans and curtain rods. Fixtures are included in a sale. ”

Flora asked hopefully, “Is my swing-set personal property?”

Mr. Hart leaned down toward Flora, red-faced and neck muscles bulging. “Stop interrupting!” he yelled. “Mr. Love is here for business, not your silly questions, Flora!”

Flora’s question was actually a good one, and stumped me. The swing-set’s legs were set in the ground, which made it a fixture, yet its intended use was as personal property. Mr. Hart solved my quandary. He looked at Flora and said, “The swing-set stays with the property.” I made note on the listing contract: “Swing-set included.”

Flora narrowed her eyes and gave her dad the stink-eye. I shrugged apologetically when she looked at me, but she gave me the stink-eye, too. Flora stomped away and Mr. Hart left. I measured the outside of the house, then toured the inside, and ran into Martha in the kitchen.

“Yeah, she’s a funny one,” Martha said toward the T.V. She exhaled smoke and rattled the ice cubes in her drink glass. I caught sight of Flora out back. I don’t think Martha noticed or cared. I left the kitchen out the back door.

“What’s your dog’s name?” I asked Flora. She huddled under a tree with her arm around the beagle’s neck.

“Buddy,” she said softly, and wiped her cheek.

She looked up at me and asked, “Is Buddy personal property?”

I nodded yes, and told her Buddy goes with her.

“Will you write that down?” She pointed at my listing contract.

I did: “Buddy not included.”