New Year's Eve
The old house stood above the bay like a stubborn survivor.
From the front veranda of Seaview House, you could watch the ferries crossing to Melbourne, the city skyline can be seen at the far edge of the water, clouded by the city's smog and scattered clouds
The house sat nestled behind an old fence, having seen four decades of family celebrations, arguments, reconciliations, weddings, and funerals. The walls show that it had survived economic recessions, teenage rebellions, migrant nostalgia, and several failed renovation projects.
Now its days were numbered, and everyone inside knew it because yellow planning notice had appeared on the front fence three months earlier: PROPOSED REDEVELOPMENT.
Most family members pretended not to notice it and others argued about it every chance they got.
Tonight, however, nobody could avoid talking about demolition It was New Year's Eve and as happen the final New Year's Eve for Seaview House.
The dining table stretched almost the entire length of the room. Trays of food covered every available surface. Romanian pastries sat beside Australian pavlova. Bottles of wine crowded shoulder to shoulder with homemade plum brandy. Somebody had already started arguing about football. Somebody else had begun telling the same family story for the tenth consecutive year.
Outside, children chased each other across the lawn and inside, old grievances quietly took their seats but ready to surface as soon the music stopped.
Vanessa Collins stood near the window holding a glass she had forgotten to drink from.
Across the room, Daniel Mason was checking his phone again, his jaw tight stopped for moment then check again.
The screen lit his face for only a second each time, but it was enough to show his unease.
Daniel was worried the sale was slipping away and Vanessa could feel the risk closing in.
After twenty years of watching people, she trusted that feeling and some times she didn’t wish to know.
She looked toward the bay at calm water and the clear sky and on that moment everything appeared perfect. This night It was the kind of evening people remembered for the rest of their lives though not always for the reasons they expected.
Vanessa Collins had always believed that houses remembered things-not in the supernatural sense. She had spent too many years teaching science to entertain ghosts and spirits.
But somehow, in the back of her mind, she just felt like sometimes walls remembered, floorboards remembered and they absorbed laughter, grief, arguments, and secrets until they became part of its structure.
Seaview House carried more memories than most. As the south began to take clearer shape in her mind, Vanessa took another gulp of the red wine.
She watched as Eleanor Hart settled herself at the old baby grand piano in the corner of the lounge room.
The piano had arrived from Europe in a shipping container in 1984, along with three crates of books, a collection of crystal glasses, and enough family expectations to burden several generations.
Eleanor flexed her fingers dramatically.
"Oh no," muttered Jack Morgan.
Several people laughed.
"What?" Eleanor demanded.
"The last time you sat at that piano, we lost two wine glasses and nearly a chandelier."
"It was artistic expression."
"It was an assault on Mozart."
Eleanor ignored him and launched into a lively jazz version of Auld Lang Syne.
The younger guests applauded, but the older guests winced.
Tyler Parker immediately pulled out his phone and started filming.
"Don't put that online," Jack warned.
"Why?"
"Because future generations deserve better."
Tyler grinned.
At twenty-seven, he seemed incapable of taking anything seriously.
His mother, Georgia, emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of pastries.
"Tyler, help me."
"I'm helping preserve family history."
"You're preserving laziness." She sighed, just half joking and handed him the tray anyway.
The room filled with the smell of cinnamon, vanilla and freshly baked pastry.
For a brief moment, Vanessa felt something close to happiness.
This was how she preferred to remember the house and smile at the wine glass. New sip to dissolve everything else that came after: the arguments, the disappointment, or years that had slipped away unnoticed.
Just this: music, food, the bay beyond the windows and the beautiful cacophonic noise of the family gathered together.