Heading downstairs, she pulled her cell phone from her bag and dictated notes on her findings. She liked talking about a property after she’d done a visual run through, while her thoughts were fresh. Speaking aloud each selling point, and the things that needed refreshing—like paint and flooring—seemed to set the details in her memory. It also gave her a reminder of what she found.
Stepping onto the porch, she locked the front door, and dropped the key into her bag, along with her phone. She’d have to remember to have Serena bring a lock box to put on the front door, so workmen would have access. Glancing around again, she smiled. The land around the house had been sodded with grass, bushes wrapped around both sides of the house, starting at the edge of the front porch, and lining the outer walls. They’d obviously been well-tended, and the grass still looked lush and green. The new owner had made an agreement with the small local company who’d worked for his uncle, because he hadn’t wanted the property to appear abandoned and encourage squatters or vagrants. Smart.
Past the landscaped lawn, the land was dotted with trees. Mostly large oaks, the kind found all over the Lone Star State. They grew naturally in the Texas soil and spread their branches in a huge canopy over the dirt. It was a good plot of land, with enough acreage for an industrious family to make it their own. Neighbors aplenty, but not so close as to be all up in their business. She chuckled. Definitely another selling point.
Four bedroom, two and a half bath homes in this market, even with the commute to Austin, would garner a hefty price. Probably multiple offers if the current owner was willing to make a few of the upgrades she’d suggest. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that though, since he’d seemed anxious to unload the place. All she could do was make the suggestions and leave the final decision in his hands. If it was her property, she’d make a few revisions, knock down a couple of walls, and bring the old beauty into the twenty-first century. Hopefully potential buyers would see the same strong bones and possibilities she saw and revive the old girl.
Stepping off the porch, she continued making her way around the side of the house, inspecting the base of the house and the soil beneath it. Some older homes tended to have foundation issues. Texas soil was tricky to build on, and foundation issues were common. Luckily, the home had a pier and beam foundation, which she much preferred. She hated dealing with the slab foundations so popular in Texas with new construction. They were a pain in the backside when it came to repairs.
Continuing around to the back of the house, she studied the wooden steps leading from the kitchen door out to the backyard. The area screamed for a nice big deck, but it wasn’t up to her. Wasn’t her house, she wasn’t going to live there. Unless, she pondered, one of her boys might want to take on the challenge of bringing the old gal back to her former glory. It was something to consider.
On either side of the kitchen door were window boxes full of dead withered leaves and stems. Guess the company who took care of the lawn and bushes hadn’t bothered with those. She imagined they’d once been filled with fresh herbs, maybe some brightly colored flowers. This close to the kitchen, it would be easy to simply throw open the window and pick what they needed for whatever recipe they were cooking and, with a few snips, have fragrant, fresh herbs.
About a hundred yards from the house, she spotted a large outbuilding, bigger than a small gardening shed. Oversized, the previous owner had probably used it for storage. It wasn’t big enough for a garage, and too far from the house to be used as one anyway. Pulling out her phone again, she dictated a quick note that the house did not have a garage. Lots of homes in Texas didn’t, so it wasn’t that unusual. Those that did tended to convert them into extra living space if they were attached to the main structure.
Inhaling deeply, she smiled. It was a gorgeous day. The sun shone brightly in the vibrant blue sky, though she knew that wouldn’t last long. The forecast called for storms to roll through later in the afternoon, some possibly severe. There had been talk of large hail too. But for now, she’d take advantage of the beautiful weather and finish checking out the property. Thank goodness she’d put on her tennis shoes before she left the office.
Might as well look at the outbuilding, see what it contained, if anything, and what needed to be hauled away. Hitching up her shoulder strap, she headed for the large shed. When she reached it, she frowned, noticing there wasn’t any type of fastening on the door. The only thing holding it closed was a slide-type bracket, far too flimsy to be used on an outer door. It was the kind you’d usually see inside. If there was anything even remotely valuable in the shed, it begged to be stolen.
Pulling the door open, she stepped up on the wobbly piece of plywood acting as a wooden incline and walked inside. Once again, an overwhelming sense of neglect spread through the structure. The interior was dark and smelled musty and almost…moldy? She wondered if there was a water supply someplace close by. The floor consisted of sheets of plywood, laid end-to-end, some overlapping in places. Might indicate flooring issues, maybe rot. Might also mean the building wasn’t good for anything except tearing down.
Two of the walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves, most empty. That was good news; it meant less stuff to haul to the dump. Along the back wall sat a dilapidated push lawnmower with the blade attachment bent and unusable. A leaf blower leaned forlornly in the corner, cobwebs decorating its casing. A rake and a shovel lay on the plywood floor, discarded and alone.
The wall on the right was covered in water stains leading downward from the roof in several places. Probably the source of the moldy smell, she mused. She lifted her phone, needing to make a note for the inspector to see whether the water damage warranted saving the outbuilding, or whether the whole thing needed to be torn down. Calling up the camera function, she clicked a quick picture.
Stomping her foot against the plywood, she heard a cracking sound. Frowning, she turned on the flashlight app, shining it toward her feet. Jagged cracks fissured in thick lines across the aged wood. There was a bouncy, spongy feeling beneath her feet. Definitely not safe. Moving away from the weakened spot, she stepped to the side, grimacing at the piles of old grass shavings beneath the shelves. There was also evidence of scattered critter nests, meaning rodents made the old building their home at one point. A shudder raced through her. Hopefully they were long gone. She wasn’t afraid of a few mice; she seen more than her fair share of the little buggers living on a ranch. Didn’t mean she wanted to meet them face-to-face today.
Glancing upward, she noted the single exposed lightbulb with a pull string. Though there was diffused light from the sunshine, the interior of the shed was still dark, and it couldn’t hurt to have more light. Reaching for the string, she muttered a curse when she couldn’t quite reach it. Sometimes being short was bloody inconvenient. Douglas wouldn’t have had a problem reaching the cord. Neither would any of her sons. Shoot, even Nica could have pulled the stupid thing without issue.
Glaring at the cord, she rose on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as it would reach. Her fingertips teased against the little metal fastening at the end, causing it to swing back and forth. She huffed out a frustrated breath. Pulling her purse off her shoulder, she laid it on the floor, up against the wall so it was out of the way. She was a Boudreau, and no stupid piece of rope was going to get the best of her.
Taking a deep breath, she bent her knees and jumped toward the hanging string. Her fingers caught on the end, and she pulled. Light painted across every surface of the shed, and she landed on her feet. A loud crack sounded right before she felt the plywood beneath her give way, sliding sideways the moment she touched down. Thrown off balance, arms windmilling, she landed hard on her back, the breath knocked out of her. Holding still, she grimaced at the pain.
Well, that was stupid. I should know better than to think I’m Wonder Woman, able to do anything. Ow!
Struggling to sit, she glared at the offending piece of wood which had skidded a couple of feet away, leaving a gap beneath the floor. She couldn’t help noticing the rather large hole revealed by the missing piece of flooring.
Great, one more reason to tear this thing down.
She looked around, getting her bearings on where she’d landed. Unfortunately, it was on the opposite side of the huge hole in the floor from where she’d laid her purse.
And her phone.
“Looks like I’m on my own. Can’t call the cavalry to ride to the rescue.” She chuckled at the picture of all her grown sons saddling up and riding to the rescue, grimacing when pain shot through her lower back. “Ugh, no more laughing. Now, let’s get up and get out of here.”
Easing onto her side, she made it to her hands and knees, gritting her teeth to keep from yelling at the pain in her backside and from her own stupidity. Putting weight on her right foot, she collapsed onto the ground when her ankle couldn’t hold her weight. She thumped back into a sitting position and reached for her ankle, noting it had swollen to almost double in size. Touching the skin, she winced at the shock of pain shooting through it.
Shaking her head, she leaned back against the wall of the shed, and closed her eyes. “It’s going to be a long trip back to the truck.”
CHAPTER THREE
Maggie walked through the kitchen door, her hands laden with gallon jugs filled with tea and lemonade and plunked them onto the table against the wall. The ladies had agreed to meet at How Sweet It Is, Jill Monroe’s bakery. She’d allowed them to use the kitchen area in the back once the morning rush was over. Which was a good thing, because planning this secret celebration was proving to be a massive undertaking.
“Have you heard from Ms. Patti?” Tina grabbed a container of sour cream and dumped it into a large bowl, then added a second. A couple of packages of onion soup mix quickly joined it, and she stirred, making a face at the gloopy mess. Personally, she couldn’t stand the stuff, but she’d been informed by her fiancé that it was a must-have at Boudreau gatherings, along with a gazillion different chips for dipping. She’d make sure there were some cut vegetables to go along with the dip too. Couldn’t hurt to have healthy stuff along with junk food.
“No. I thought she’d be here by now. You know how much she loves this kind of thing. Especially since everything we’re doing is for Beth’s baby shower. She’s probably just running behind. She mentioned going into the office for a couple of hours earlier this morning, but I expected her to be here already.” Camilla added another trinket to the goody bags she worked on and pulled the drawstring taut. They’d chosen gold and silver bags, both to tie into the supposed baby shower theme, and for the surprise vow renewal. The gold ones were for the wedding, and the silver ones contained baby-related goodies.
“Think I should call her, see if she’s on her way?”
