Fiction: Mansion for sale, pig & butler included

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by River over here. This week's prompts are: herring, detectives, beer, mask, peaches. Last week's prompts are: gallivanting, curious, forest, bacon and this picture from ArcticFox:

Fiction: Mansion for sale, pig & butler included
"The pig comes with the property," said Mrs. Sweetner, the realtor.
    "What?" said Garrison Herring. He eyed the short woman, uncertain he heard her right.
    "I said the pig comes with the property," said Mrs. Sweetner with a small smile. "It's one of two stipulations that are non-negotiable. It's why this place is selling for such a low number, Mr. Herring."
    "I heard you the first time but why a pig?" Herring never heard of such a thing. If his family didn't need more space and if he had more money, he never would have considered this property at all.
    "I don't believe I have an answer but perhaps you can find out yourself. The house has plenty of histories and mysteries. Years ago, the original owner..."
    Herring stopped listening. Was he already having buyer's remorse without even making an offer?
    Thirty minutes ago, when the family was dropped off at the curb by a taxi that sped away right after Herring paid the driver and faced the curious gate rusted with age and impressions of dried matters, they all paused. Had they gotten the address wrong? No. Number 1314 was plainly stated on a corroded brass plate nailed to the wall next to the gate.
    Herring searched for a button or a buzzer but found none so he pushed the gate open. It squeaked. In the distance, through the forest of vines, twigs, and various nature growth, he could make out a colonial house in a faint brick-orange hue. All the grimes and years of wear was apparent under the afternoon sunlight. A light flashed in one of the upper windows but Herring could only see darkness within. The eight of them walked down the paved path toward the front door. Herring had a feeling eyes were on him but found no source. As there was no doorbell, he lifted the lion knocker on the large door and banged it twice.
    A seven-foot man had opened the door. He wore a neatly pressed dark suit with a white bow tie. Not a single grey-black hair was out of place. His thin, long face matched his thin, long nose. After Herring introduced himself and his family, the man said in a sonorous voice, "I am Hugh, the butler." He then showed them inside where Mrs. Sweetner was waiting.
    
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As the Herring family followed Mrs. Sweetner from room to room, she described everything, adding facts and numbers. Despite the furniture being old, despite the decor a bit outdated, everything was dust-free and working fine. There were ten bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a kitchen, a dinning room, two livingrooms, a library, two studies, various storage rooms, an attic and a basement with acres of surrounding land.
    After they finished the tour, Herring's wife Eleanor took their six children to the kitchen for snacks while Herring and Mrs. Sweetner went to the library for further discussion.
    The large library was brightly lit by sunlight that entered through the two wide windows facing the backyard. The scent of peaches was in the air but it didn't mask the old book smell coming from the wall to wall shelves full of old tomes. Two dark red wingback chairs were placed in the center of the room with a mahogany coffee table between them.
    "The second stipulations is the butler stays on until he retirees or until he cease to exist." Mrs. Sweetner smiled. She seemed unperturbed by the words coming out of her mouth. A pig and a butler were two things the Herring family didn't want or need. Herring had a suspicion the butler was listening to everything they say.
    "If I decide to sell the pig or fire the butler, what would happen?" Herring wondered why he didn't sound one bit alarmed by his own words.
    "Oh no, you shouldn't. You'll forfeit the property if you do either one." Mrs. Sweetner's eyes' widened. "It really is unnecessary to do either. Just leave the pig alone in his house, filled his food stall and he will take care of himself, only don't let him go gallivanting alone around the neighborhood. Never call him a hog. He's sensitive about his age. And make sure never to serve bacon. If he smells bacon, he'll go nuts and destroy everything he sees. And the butler - you don't need to pay him a salary. He can even help you take care of your family. Mr. Herring, this offer will not come again."
    Herring knew better than to trust her and yet, the price was attractive and the house was the perfect size. "Wait, the pig has his own house?"
    "Yes, out in the backyard. The mini house you saw a moment ago."
    "I thought that was the guest house."
    "Oh no, that's Mr. Six-Million's house."
    "Is that the pig's name?"
    "Didn't I say? Yes, he was named so because the owner purchased him for six million even before he was born. You must call him Mr. Six-Million or else he won't answer you." Mrs. Sweetner smiled again. Herring was starting to hate her smile.
    A large white pig with odd-shaped black spots on his back and wearing a black bowtie around his neck entered the library. Three of Herring's children followed. Mrs. Sweetner shot to her feet as Herring did the same. The pig sniffed Mrs. Sweetner who merely smiled. Next he sniffed Herring. He smelled a whiff of beer from the pig before he turned away and calmly walked out of the room with the children following him.
    Hugh entered with a tray of tea things and set them all down on the coffee table and left. The scent of the peach-flavored tea filled the room. Something green caught Herring's eyes. A man wearing an a emerald ring on his left pinky sat in the chair while Mrs. Sweetner stood beside it. The man reached out to pick up the teapot but his hand went right through it. He laughed. "Still forgetting I can't touch things." He smiled at Herring with a lift of his gray eyebrows.
    "Mr. Herring, have you decided?" said Mrs. Sweetner, still standing.
    Herring looked from her to the man and then back at him. "Do you see him?" He pointed at the man.
    Mrs. Sweetner turned to look at the chair. "Him who? I see no one. Mr. Herring, are you alright?"
    "The previous owner, did he love peach-flavored tea?"
    "I believe so." She bended down toward her large bag on the floor beside the chair and pulled out a folder and flipped through it. "Yes, Julian Fairchild - he often served his guest peach-flavored tea. What's that have to do with anything?"
    Herring looked from the man who might be Fairchild to Mrs. Sweetner. "Is Mr. Fairchild...deceased?"
    "Yes. He died two years ago, the day he turned sixty. Now, Mr. Herring, if you want to know about the owner, I can send you a bio later. Right now, you need to make a decision. I have two other interested parties but if you make an offer today, I'm sure your offer will be accepted." Mrs. Sweetner put the files back into her bag. She proceeded to sit down again but Herring shouted, "No, don't sit there!"
    "Why not?" asked Mrs. Sweetner.
    Herring could not think of a reason that didn't make him sound insane. He shrugged. "I'm not sure."
    Mrs. Sweetner chuckled. "Mr. Herring, do you need some time alone? I'll go and reply to some calls." She picked up her bag and stepped out of the library.
    "Mr. Herring, is it? I am Julian Fairchild, the late owner of this property. I have decided you and your family belong here. Make an offer and it will be accepted," said the former Mr. Fairchild.
    "Am I talking to a... ghost?" asked Herring.
    "If you believe in such things, yes. Hugh will testify to my presence if you need someone to test your sanity and your eyes. Though the old man's eyesight aren't what they used to be." Fairchild shook his head.
    "Why can I see you and not Mrs. Sweetner?"
    "She doesn't believe in such things as ghosts. If you don't believe, you don't see, isn't that how it works?"
    Herring nodded. "I guess. Do you come with the property?"
    "If you'll have me." Fairchild smiled. "Will you be making an offer today?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Herrings moved into the house a month later. Hugh turned out to be the executor of Fairchild's estate and he approved of the Herring family.
    The first morning the Herrings woke up to find their yards, front and back, cleared and cleaned. The exterior of the house and windows were free of grimes. How this happened, Herring wasn't sure. When he found Fairchild in the library, he had smiled and said things were always that way. Everyone could see Fairchild except Eleanor. Herring didn't quite know why that was. His children were quite fond of the ghost. Herring hoped the man would not appear too often in their lives. After all, with six children, a pig, a butler and two adults, they didn't need any more excitement.
    After they breakfasted, two children who often liked to play detectives, came running into the livingroom and shouted, "We found a dinosaur in the backyard!" That was all the words needed for everyone to rush to the yard except Herring. He sat there contemplating why his life wasn't dull and quiet.