The Family Plot Read Free Page A

Please tell me this is an investment, and not a calamity.”
    â€œLife is full of risks.”
    â€œAnd this house is full of furniture,” she observed. “Why’s that?”
    â€œIt’s cheap shit, left over from yard sales and estate clearance.” He sat back in his chair. It leaned with a hard creak, but didn’t drop him. “We can take all that stuff, too—if we feel like it.”
    â€œThis isn’t all cheap shit.”
    â€œWell, you’re the furniture expert, honey, not me.”
    She nodded down at the images in her lap. “Some of these pieces are good. If the old lady doesn’t want them, sure, I’ll take them. I could use some furniture right now. I don’t care if it’s old and dusty. I’ll clean it up here, and take it back to my new place.”
    Dahlia had just sold her house. It was part of the divorce agreement, since Tennessee is a communal property state—and neither she nor the ex could agree on who ought to keep it. Her new apartment was half empty, like it belonged to a bachelor or a college kid. In Chuck’s opinion, it was downright pitiful.
    She sighed. “Jesus, Dad. Look at this staircase.”
    â€œChestnut.”
    â€œIs it? Oh, wow, that’s great…” But that’s not what she was thinking, and he knew it. She was thinking about the staircase in the house she’d lost, and how it had gleamed in the muted, colored light from the stained glass in the front door sidelights.
    â€œHoney, chestnut’s a whole lot better than great—and there’s a bunch more sitting out back, from the old barn. There’s a carriage house, too. Both of them have been locked up since before Ms. Withrow was born.”
    Her face brightened. “Seriously?”
    He’d figured that little tidbit might distract her. “That’s what she said.”
    â€œAnd she must be ninety, if she’s a day. Let’s round it up to a hundred years, then. What did those buildings hold, a century ago?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m going to guess … carriages. And barn stuff.”
    Dahlia tapped her finger on the folder’s edge. “We could pry open those doors and turn up anything, or nothing.”
    â€œYou’ll find out when you get there.”
    â€œHell yes, I will. What’s our time frame like?”
    â€œTwo weeks.” He cracked open the top desk drawer, and slipped his checkbook back inside it.
    â€œWe won’t need that long.”
    He grinned. A child after his own heart. “I know, but I expect we’ll need more time than you think. We’re talking four acres, with several outbuildings. The house is some 4,500 square feet. And … I hate to mention it, but I can’t spare much in the way of manpower or resources right now. I’m counting on you, kid.”
    â€œT&H? The dick joint?”
    â€œNeither one of them’s paid up. But,” he said fast, “Barry’s got a lawyer up their asses, and they have until the end of this week, or we’re suing them.”
    â€œDad…” She sighed.
    â€œI know, I know. It’ll be tight for a month or so, that’s all. But once you get the Withrow house gutted, I’ll fire off a flashy press release, then we can sit back and watch the money roll in. These places don’t hit the market every day of the week—you just watch, we’ll have designers and construction guys coming out from both coasts, and Canada, too.”
    â€œI hope you’re right. Because if you’re wrong…”
    â€œI’m definitely right. We just have to hang on until we get the stock back here, sorted out, and tagged for sale,” he promised.
    She might’ve believed him, or she might’ve just been resigned to her fate. He couldn’t tell which when she said, “Then I’d better work fast. Who’s coming with me?”
    Now for the fun part. He