“I'll pick you up in ten minutes. Where do you live?” She gave him the address, and he rang her bell fifteen minutes later. She ran down the stairs to meet him, and climbed into the Jeep he had driven to pick her up.

“What happened to the Peugeot?” Sarah asked with interest.

“I'm not allowed to drive it.” He smiled at her, and they stopped at a deli on Fillmore Street for sandwiches and lemonade. Less than an hour after he picked her up, they were at the house Sarah hoped would be hers. With any luck, it would be. She warned him that it was not yet a done deal, and he smiled at her, unconcerned. “It will be. I feel it in my bones.”

“Me too,” she giggled, as she let them both into the house.

He took his work very seriously. He had brought two cameras, an industrial tape measure, a sketch pad, and a series of tools and implements to measure things, and check others out. He explained to her that the floors and boiseries would have to be protected while there was work being done in the house. He recommended two plumbing contractors for her to choose between, and three electricians whom he told her wouldn't charge a fortune. The arrangement Jeff suggested he make with her was an hourly fee, based on work he actually did, not a percentage of costs, to run the project. He said an hourly would be cheaper for her. He was being extremely reasonable, got under things, climbed over things, rattled things, knocked on walls, and checked wood, tile, and plaster.

“The house is amazingly sound, considering its age,” he said, after they'd spent an hour there. There was no question that the plumbing and electrical were a disaster, although he liked the fact that there were no visible leaks anywhere in the house, which he said was unheard of.

“Stanley took pretty good care of it on the outside. He didn't want to live in the main part of the house, but he didn't want it to fall apart, either. He just put on a new roof.”

“He was smart. Water damage screws up everything, and sometimes leaks are hard to follow.” They were there till nearly six o'clock, and by the time they left, they were both using powerful flashlights. Sarah felt completely at home there. She'd had a fun afternoon going over everything with Jeff. And this was only the beginning. He had already filled one notebook with notes and sketches. “And there will be no charge for today,” he said as she locked the front door and he helped her into the Jeep.

“Are you kidding? We've been here for five hours.”

“It's Sunday. I had nothing better to do, and I enjoyed it. Today was a gift. I had so much fun, you should charge me. Your hourly rate is probably higher than mine,” he teased her. They seemed to be fairly comparable, given the prices he had quoted to her over the phone.

“I think it's a wash in that case.”

“Good. Do you have time for dinner, or are you busy? We could start going over my notes. I want to do some renderings for you tomorrow morning.” They were off and running.

“You're not sick of me yet?” She felt like a bit of a mooch, taking advantage of him, since she was planning to do some of the work herself. But he knew that, and didn't seem to mind. It had originally been his suggestion.

“I'd better not be sick of you, or the house. Or you of me. You're going to see a lot of me for the next six months, or longer, depending on how long it takes for us to finish. Sushi?” he asked as they drove off.

“Perfect.”

He took her to a sushi restaurant just off Union, and they continued talking about the house with energy and enthusiasm. He was going to be fun to work with. He obviously loved his profession, and the house she was buying was rapidly becoming his passion. It was like the projects he had done in Europe.

He dropped her back at her place just after eight-thirty, and promised to call her in the morning. The phone was ringing when she walked into her apartment.

“Where were you?” It was Phil. He sounded anxious.

“Just out eating sushi,” she said calmly.

“All day? I've been calling you since two o'clock. I brought the kids back early. You've been out all day. I've been leaving messages on your cell phone.” She hadn't checked her messages since noon. She'd been too busy on Scott Street.

“I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd call me,” she said sincerely.

“I was going to take you to dinner.” He sounded piqued, and she teased him.

“On a Sunday? Now, there's a new twist.”

“I had pizza. I gave up on you at seven. Do you want me to come over?”

“Now?” She sounded surprised, and was filthy dirty. They'd been crawling around the house all day, even in the basement. The janitorial service had done a good job, but they'd gotten dusty anyway. There was still dirt in some of the remoter nooks and crannies.

“Are you busy?” Phil asked.

“No. I just look a mess. You can come over if you want. I'll hop in the shower.” He had the keys, and had for two years. She had nothing to hide from him. In spite of the inadequacy of their arrangement, from her perspective, she had always been faithful to him, and he to her. She couldn't help wondering why he was coming over. She was drying her hair, after the shower, when he walked into the apartment, frowning.

“What's with you?” he asked, looking worried. “You're out every time I call you. You went out for sushi. You never go to dinner alone. You went to a movie alone on Friday. And you've been looking at condos.” She smiled mysteriously as he said it. She was thinking about the house on Scott Street. “And you look weird.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, laughing at him. What did he expect? He left for a weekend with his kids, and didn't invite her. Maybe he thought she'd sit locked in the apartment all weekend waiting to see him the following weekend. Not this time, although it had happened before. “I was just keeping busy. And I decided not to buy a condo.”

“Well, at least that's normal. I was beginning to think you were seeing another guy or something.” She smiled at him and put her arms around him.

“Not for the moment,” she said honestly, “but one of these days, I will, if we don't start seeing more of each other.”

“For chrissake, Sarah, don't start that again.” He seemed nervous.

“I'm not. You asked me.”

“I just thought you were acting strange.” Stranger than he could ever dream of. And if she got the house, it was going to get a lot stranger. Now she could hardly wait to tell him. But she wanted to talk to her bank, and wait to hear from all the heirs first.

He lay down on the couch and turned on the TV, and then he pulled her down next to him. Within moments he got amorous, and half an hour later, they moved to her bedroom. The bed was unmade and the sheets hadn't been changed, but he didn't seem to mind it. In fact, he never noticed. He spent the night with her, nestled next to her, holding her, even on a Sunday night. And he made love to her again the next morning. It was funny, Sarah thought to herself as she drove downtown, how people sensed when things were different. And her life was about to get even more so. If she got the house, her life would change radically.





Chapter 11


Sarah drafted a letter to all nineteen heirs of Stanley's estate on Monday. She faxed it to those who had fax machines, FedExed it to the others, and added the official offer form that Marjorie had prepared as the realtor. Everything was official, and had been sent out into the ether by ten A.M.

At eleven, Tom Harrison called her from St. Louis. He was laughing when she took the call in her office. “I was wondering if you were going to do that, Sarah. Your eyes lit up when you walked into that house. Good for you. I think that's exactly what Stanley meant when he told us all to look for new horizons. I have to say, I'd pay you twice that much not to get saddled with a white elephant like that. But if you love it, do it. You have my full approval. I accept your offer.”

“Thanks, Tom.” She was thrilled as she listened.

She heard from four more of them that day. And nine on Tuesday. That left five she hadn't heard from. Two of them gave her their approval on Wednesday. And by then she had heard from her bank. There was no problem getting a mortgage, or even giving her a line of credit to cover the down payment until her bequest came through from Stanley. Marjorie had suggested she get a termite report, just to be on the safe side, and that was fine. There were a few surprisingly minor problems, which were to be expected in an old house. Nothing that couldn't be fixed. Stanley had had a seismic report done, just to make sure the house wouldn't fall on him in an earthquake. So the only problems were the obvious ones she knew about.

The last three approvals came in on Thursday, and as soon as they did, Sarah called the bank, Marjorie, and Jeff Parker. They were the only ones who knew of her insanity. Jeff gave out a whoop of glee when she told him. He had called her on Tuesday to check, but then she still had five approvals missing. All the heirs were delighted to get the house sold and out of the estate, and they were happy with the price. It was a complication and headache none of them had wanted. They had agreed to a three-day escrow, which was almost unheard of. It meant that technically the house would be hers on Sunday.

“We have to do something to celebrate,” Jeff said, when he heard the news. “How about another sushi dinner?” It was easy and quick, and they agreed to meet at a different restaurant on Fillmore, after they both finished work. They agreed on seven-thirty, and she had to admit, it was nice having something to do, and someone to meet with during the week. It was more fun than eating a sandwich at her desk while she worked, or going home to stare at the TV and skip dinner completely.