have it on the market by the end of July.”
Jake aspirated her last word and fought strangulation for several breaths. “I…think…that might be a bit…ambitious.” He pulled a notebook from his back pocket. “Why don’t we take a walk-through. You tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do and how long it should take.”
“Fair enough.” Her lips pressed against each other.
He tried to picture her with a smile.
“Nobody’s looking for this many bedrooms these days.” She walked out into the hall. “We can put a bath over there and enlarge that bedroom.” Again, she pointed with the cane. And then we can…”
We? Who’s we?
He followed her around like a trained pup, taking notes, asking for clarification.
But he wasn’t a hoop jumper. As much as he needed the work, he’d already made up his mind.
Before he said no, the woman needed a history lesson.
She didn’t have to like him to hire him.
Emily leaned on the railing as she clunked down the stairs ahead of him. He
would
be the chivalrous type, letting her go first. She led him to the front room, where she’d dropped her sleeping bag. A duct-taped corner of her second copy of
Flipping Houses for Dummies
peeked out of her duffel bag.
He glanced at her meager belongings. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, are you?”
“I have an air mattress.” She pointed toward the black vinyl bag. “On this level, I’d like to open things up. Kind of a great-room concept. The dining room—” She stopped. Jake Braden held one hand up like he was swearing on a Bible.
“That would ruin the…” His shoulders rose, almost to his ears. “Maybe my opinion is clouded because I live in this neighborhood, but my personal and professional opinion”—he put way too much emphasis
on professional
—“is if you hope to sell a historical landmark, you need to respect the integrity of the original design. The buyers who will be drawn to this place are looking for a trip back in time, a strong flavor of the past.”
Fingers curled toward her palms. She’d spent seventeen pain-racked months trying get rid of a strong flavor of the past in every aspect of her life. This house represented her first step toward everything new. “That’s a very small, niche market. My goal is to make this place appealing to a broad range of buyers. And most people like new.” She held his gaze, amused at his irritation. Braden Improvements came highly recommended. She didn’t have to like him to hire him, but she did have to agree with him. Or rather, he needed to agree with her. Two more contractors would walk through the house yet today, and if she needed to interview a few more, so be it. She didn’t have the energy to argue with this man.
He pulled a phone out of his shirt pocket. “Maybe you’ve already seen this, but I found a picture of your house on the Historical Society website. Taken in 1906.” He tapped and scrolled then handed it to her.
She stared at the sepia-toned photograph. A big white dog sat on the front step.
Her
front step. The house hadn’t changed much in more than a hundred years, but the top of the oak tree that now stood like a wounded soldier didn’t even reach the roofline in the picture.
“Mr. Braden, I do have an appreciation for history. I understand the importance of keeping a historical feel, but I want to incorporate changes that make it work for the way people live today.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I suppose if I were remodeling this house for myself, I might get interested in its stories. But, frankly, this place is a means to an end.”
“Can I ask what’s at the end of the means?”
Restitution
. That wasn’t the answer she’d give him or anyone else. “I want to buy another house when this one sells.”
“And then?”
The guy was nothing short of rude. “California. Eventually.”
“In
Jake aspirated her last word and fought strangulation for several breaths. “I…think…that might be a bit…ambitious.” He pulled a notebook from his back pocket. “Why don’t we take a walk-through. You tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do and how long it should take.”
“Fair enough.” Her lips pressed against each other.
He tried to picture her with a smile.
“Nobody’s looking for this many bedrooms these days.” She walked out into the hall. “We can put a bath over there and enlarge that bedroom.” Again, she pointed with the cane. And then we can…”
We? Who’s we?
He followed her around like a trained pup, taking notes, asking for clarification.
But he wasn’t a hoop jumper. As much as he needed the work, he’d already made up his mind.
Before he said no, the woman needed a history lesson.
She didn’t have to like him to hire him.
Emily leaned on the railing as she clunked down the stairs ahead of him. He
would
be the chivalrous type, letting her go first. She led him to the front room, where she’d dropped her sleeping bag. A duct-taped corner of her second copy of
Flipping Houses for Dummies
peeked out of her duffel bag.
He glanced at her meager belongings. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, are you?”
“I have an air mattress.” She pointed toward the black vinyl bag. “On this level, I’d like to open things up. Kind of a great-room concept. The dining room—” She stopped. Jake Braden held one hand up like he was swearing on a Bible.
“That would ruin the…” His shoulders rose, almost to his ears. “Maybe my opinion is clouded because I live in this neighborhood, but my personal and professional opinion”—he put way too much emphasis
on professional
—“is if you hope to sell a historical landmark, you need to respect the integrity of the original design. The buyers who will be drawn to this place are looking for a trip back in time, a strong flavor of the past.”
Fingers curled toward her palms. She’d spent seventeen pain-racked months trying get rid of a strong flavor of the past in every aspect of her life. This house represented her first step toward everything new. “That’s a very small, niche market. My goal is to make this place appealing to a broad range of buyers. And most people like new.” She held his gaze, amused at his irritation. Braden Improvements came highly recommended. She didn’t have to like him to hire him, but she did have to agree with him. Or rather, he needed to agree with her. Two more contractors would walk through the house yet today, and if she needed to interview a few more, so be it. She didn’t have the energy to argue with this man.
He pulled a phone out of his shirt pocket. “Maybe you’ve already seen this, but I found a picture of your house on the Historical Society website. Taken in 1906.” He tapped and scrolled then handed it to her.
She stared at the sepia-toned photograph. A big white dog sat on the front step.
Her
front step. The house hadn’t changed much in more than a hundred years, but the top of the oak tree that now stood like a wounded soldier didn’t even reach the roofline in the picture.
“Mr. Braden, I do have an appreciation for history. I understand the importance of keeping a historical feel, but I want to incorporate changes that make it work for the way people live today.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I suppose if I were remodeling this house for myself, I might get interested in its stories. But, frankly, this place is a means to an end.”
“Can I ask what’s at the end of the means?”
Restitution
. That wasn’t the answer she’d give him or anyone else. “I want to buy another house when this one sells.”
“And then?”
The guy was nothing short of rude. “California. Eventually.”
“In
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