Rob finished his cigarette and opened the car door. Maybe, just maybe, today would be his lucky day. He put on his sincerest, most helpful smile and cut across the lawn to greet the owner of the Land Rover. He was ready for a real challenge.
Leslie and Karen came around the corner of the house in time to catch the tail end of the sales pitch. Mike was nodding as the older man spoke.
“It’s been vacant for five years now, but we check it every week to make sure there’s no damage. It’s a real buy, Mr. Houston. They don’t build them like this anymore. Of course it would take a real professional to fix it up and decorate it but the price is right. Only forty-five even, for the right buyer. It’s going on the block next week and that’ll drive the price up higher, sure as you’re standing here. These old estate auctions bring people in from all over; you’d be smart to put in a bid right now. Get it before someone buys the land and decides to tear it down and put in a trailer court.”
“That’d be a real shame.” Mike was shaking his head and Karen instantly recognized the thoughtful expression on his face. She’d seen it enough times when he was in the market for a new camera. He really was interested. Of course she was, too, she thought, giving the house another look. They’d already decided to get out of the Twin Cities and Mike could work anywhere as long as he had a studio and darkroom. The price was fantastically low and there was the new baby on the way. They couldn’t stay in their two-bedroom apartment much longer. Out here she could raise flowers and enjoy working on the house. They might even be able to swing a tennis court in a couple of years and Leslie would have lots of room to play.
“I’d really have to think about it for a while,” Mike said, shrugging his shoulders. “And I’d have to see the inside, of course. If it needs a lot of work, the price would have to come down.”
“No problem, Mr. Houston.” The real estate agent turned to smile at Karen and Leslie. “Glad to meet you, ladies. I’m Rob Comstock from Comstock Realty and I’ve got the keys with me, if you folks would like to take a look. We’ve got at least an hour of daylight left.”
Karen had a sense of inevitability as she followed Leslie and Mike inside. She’d been dying to see the interior and here she was. One look at the huge high-ceilinged living room made her gasp. This room alone was bigger than their whole apartment! Stained-glass panes graced the upper sections of the floor-length windows and the hardwood floors were virtually unblemished.
“Oh . . . lovely,” Karen murmured softly. Her voice was hushed as if she were in a museum. She began to smile as she followed Rob Comstock up the circular staircase and viewed the second floor. Huge, airy bedrooms with polished oak moldings, a separate dressing room in the master suite with an ancient claw-footed dresser dominating the space—the interior was just as she had imagined. If only they could afford it.
“The furniture on the third floor is included.” He was speaking to her now and Karen smiled. Rob Comstock could see she was interested. There was no denying Karen’s excitement as she stepped up on the third-floor landing and saw what must have been the original ballroom, filled with old furniture covered by dropcloths. What she wouldn’t give to poke under the shrouded shapes and see the intriguing pieces that were stored and forgotten in this enormous shadowed space.
A small staircase with a door at the top led to the cupola and Leslie was scrambling up before Karen could caution her to be careful. The steps were safe enough. The whole house seemed untouched by time, waiting for some new owners to love and nourish it, to bring it back to life again. Karen could imagine it was almost the same as it had been when the original occupants left, with only a bit of dust and cobwebs covering its intrinsic beauty.
“Plenty of real antiques up here, I’ll bet!” Rob Comstock was speaking to her, but Karen only half heard him. She anticipated squeals of delight from Leslie over the view that stretched in all directions from the windowed cupola. Strange that there was only silence overhead.
Karen excused herself reluctantly. “I’d better go up and check on Leslie.” A prickle of anxiety invaded her mind as she started up the narrow staircase into the dusty silence.
Karen was convinced there was something wrong when she reached the landing and pushed open the door to the cupola. Leslie was standing at one of the twelve narrow windows, staring out blankly. She looked preoccupied and started as Karen spoke her name.
“Kitten? What’s the matter?” The still, stiff way Leslie was standing made Karen terribly nervous. She rushed to put her arms around her daughter.
“Huh? Oh . . . nothing, Mom.” Leslie gave her a funny, lopsided smile. She looked miserable. “I’m afraid Mike won’t buy it!” There was a quaver in her voice. “This house is perfect for us, Mom. We just have to live here!”
“Now, don’t be silly, darling.” Karen gave her a quick squeeze. “This is the first house we’ve seen and it really is awfully large for us. We’ll probably see other houses you like just as much.”
“No! We have to live here in this house!” Leslie’s voice was stronger now and pleading. “You know it’s the right house, Mom. We can’t live anywhere else. This house was built just for us!”
“I think you should have Mr. Comstock’s job,” Karen said, smiling down indulgently. “You’re an even better salesman than he is. But really, kitten, we have to be sensible. I know you love this old house and I do, too, but the final decision is Mike’s.”
Karen was firm as she turned Leslie around and guided her toward the stairs. “Come on now, honey. We have to get back downstairs before it gets dark. The power’s not turned on, you know.”
“But you’ll help me convince Mike to buy it, won’t you, Mom?” Leslie asked insistently, stopping at the top step. “You know it would be perfect for us.”
“Yes, I’ll help you, silly,” Karen promised, brushing a wisp of silvery-blond hair out of Leslie’s eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief as her daughter smiled fully and hurried down the stairs in front of her. Leslie would be persistent and she might just manage to convince Mike. Leslie was right. It was almost as if the house had been waiting all this time just for them.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 1990 by H. L. Swensen, Inc.
Previously published by Pocket Books
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-8973-5
First Kensington Mass Market Edition: May 2014
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-8974-2
eISBN-10: 0-7582-8974-X
First Kensington Electronic Edition: May 2014