“That’s up to Chase,” his father said. “Your dad and I always built new, and I can give you a ballpark on demolition. But Chase, here, he has a real passion for older homes. He’s done some right fine renovation and restoration work and can tell you what’s what a lot better than me.”
Avery barely suppressed a groan. Leaving Jeff to his own devices, she followed Chase upstairs as he began his inspection, making notes on his legal pad as he went.
In the master bedroom she stood in the corner where the balcony’s French doors met the longer window wall. “I figure this was probably a sleeping porch that was enclosed when they redid the master bedroom,” she said, interested to see if he’d agree. “And this dressing area with the ‘his’ and ‘hers’ closets were probably once a separate bedroom.”
He looked at her more closely but barely grunted, “Could be.”
“These windows all look original—which I guess is why they’re not closing properly. We found a bird’s nest over here”—she pointed to the twigs and grass that remained—“and I’m not looking forward to discovering what other animals might be in residence.”
Again no comment, just note taking.
“I noticed all the windows on the front of the house are replacements, but it looks like they never got to the back or the western side. I figure most of them will need to be reglazed.” She waited pointedly for a response.
“Won’t know till I look.” He shrugged and made more notes.
“I’m betting there are hardwoods under this shag.” She scrunched up her nose at both the smell and the color.
“Like I said, I won’t know until I look.” He barely looked at her; his tone was equally dismissive.
In the master bath, she took in the two wall-hung sinks with their tapered steel legs and flaking chrome fixtures. The steady drip had worn a stain in each rectangle of porcelain. Every possible surface had been tiled in some shade of green and every inch of what felt like miles of grout screamed for cleaning and resealing.
It was a mess, but she loved the look and feel of it. Almost the only true memories of time alone with her mother were of junking and trolling for treasure in the antique stores in the older parts of Tampa. Anything remotely Deco had pulled her like a magnet and apparently still did.
“Did you see this?” She pointed up toward the slightly arched ceiling at the faded pastel tones of a fanciful underwater scene that matched the etching on the shower door. “It looks hand painted, but it’s hard to see the detail. The polyurethane has really yellowed.”
He did stop writing long enough to look up. “Yep,” he said. “Could be.”
Her eyes slitted in irritation. Chase had never been overly effusive, but she couldn’t remember him displaying this much attitude. Then again, they hadn’t spent any real time around each other since they’d been kids, and they’d never been in anything resembling a professional relationship. Which struck her now as a very fortunate thing.
The noncommittal responses continued as they finished the upstairs bedrooms and baths. She followed him up into the attic uninvited and flicked on her own flashlight, their beams looked like lopsided headlights as they flashed against the walls and framework. By the time they’d inspected the back and front stairs and covered every inch of the first floor, he was barely even grunting and she was seething.
He was thorough, she’d give him that. He practically crawled up into both fireplaces, took his time analyzing the plumbing and the electrical, and explored the pipes of the original steam heat system as well as the more recently installed central air-conditioning. Then he walked the perimeter of the house, checking out what seemed like every inch of the foundation and running his hands, well, lovingly up the heavily stuccoed walls. But for all he said to her he might as well have been alone. In fact, it seemed pretty clear to Avery that he wished he was.
In the driveway, she found Nicole and Madeline already talking with Jeff Hardin. After the briefest of hellos, Chase went to pull a ladder off his truck, leaving Avery to trail after him as he carried it to the side of the house, put it in position, and climbed up on the barrel-tile roof to look at the damage above the master bedroom. He didn’t invite her to join him, nor did he offer any details about what he’d found when he came back down with several broken pieces of tile in one hand.
“How big an area are we looking at?” she asked impatiently and when he didn’t respond, “I’m assuming it’s just a patch job.”
No response.
“Can we match the original tiles?”
“Probably.” His tone was grudging, though she thought she detected a small flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“What is it with you?” she finally demanded as he set the tiles carefully out of the way and began to fold up the ladder. “I played on the same construction sites as a child that you did. And I have a BArch degree from USC hanging on my wall. Not to mention four years onHammer and Nail. I doubt there’s anything you’re scribbling on that damned yellow pad that I’m incapable of understanding.”
“Is that right?” he asked as he settled the ladder under one arm. “I thought maybe that degree was mail order or something. Because all I ever saw you do on that show was point and gesture with the occasional flutter of your eyelashes and a sigh of admiration.”
He turned his back on her and carried the ladder to the truck, taking his time getting it positioned. By the time he’d ambled back to the rest of them, Avery’s jaw was clenched so tightly she doubted she could produce much more than a grunt herself. It was turning out be a monosyllabic kind of day.
“Well?” she ground out when he made no move to share his thoughts.
Madeline and Nicole leaned in closer to hear.
“Well,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “What do you think, Dad? Ten to fifteen thousand for demolition?”
Jeff Hardin nodded. “Yep.”
“But you’d be absolutely crazy to tear this house down,” Chase said.
