Page 38 of This Is How It Started
“It’s either a bad foundation or busted floor joists.”
“Is that bad?”
“Well, it’s not good.” Campbell goes to the worst spot, a dip the size of a sinkhole, and jumps up and down. “Feels spongy. But I’d have to get under the house to see.”
“It’s good space.” For a house this small, it really does feel open and airy.
Campbell turns in place. “There were columns there and probably bookshelves.” He points to the transition between the living and dining rooms. “You can see where someone feathered in new flooring to cover the holes.”
The dining room still has the original wainscoting, but some of the windows have been replaced with hideous louvers that don’t fit the period. Whoever lived here before was a smoker because there’s a brownish yellow film on all the walls. And unlike the living room, it has a cottage cheese ceiling.
Campbell follows my gaze upward. “Could be asbestos, which won’t be cheap to get rid of.”
We move into the kitchen, which bizarrely enough is the only room that shows better in real life than the pictures. It’s still a gut job, but there’s plenty of light and the layout is decent, even good.
Campbell walks into the adjoining bedroom and examines the wall that separates the two spaces. “I’d open this up and expand the kitchen. Maybe add a breakfast nook.”
I can see it. The second room has views of the overgrown backyard. If the grounds were cleaned up and landscaped, that little space could be the best spot in the house.
I nudge my head to the outside. “Your dad could make that yard a showplace.”
“Yep. The place definitely has potential. Let’s see the bedrooms.”
They’re on the other side of the house. Just two rectangles equivalent in size with enough room to squeeze in queen-sized beds.
“I’d make this one ours,” Campbell says. “Maybe add French doors here and put in a deck.”
I nod as a wave of melancholy hits me like a punch to the gut as I picture the room filling with light in the morning as Campbell and Jessica sleep. A small child pads into the room and climbs into bed with them, snuggling between mother and father.
My eyes fill with tears, and I go in search of the bathroom so Campbell won’t see me crying.
“Rach, where’d you go?”
“I’m checking out the bathroom,” I manage to call in a coherent voice.
He’s there, standing beside me, and I quickly turn away, pretending to examine the tub. “You’ll have to replace this.”
“You okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I surreptitiously try to blot my eyes dry. “What do you think?” I wave my hand at the bathroom.
Campbell steps back and assesses it. “Worst room in the house, and the others ain’t good.”
I laugh because he’s right. But it’s not as bad as it could be. “It’s a steal, Campbell. Almost too good to be true. If you consider the neighborhood, the benefit of having a real backyard, and a driveway where you can park at least one car—maybe even two small ones tandemly—it’s basically a pot of gold at the end of the real estate rainbow. If you’re interested, we’ll need to do a thorough inspection. And if everything checks out, be prepared for multiple offers.” There’s a reason why it’s priced the way it is. To drive up interest and fuel a feeding frenzy.
“Jess’ll need to see it. But out of everything we’ve looked at over the last few months, this one has the most potential. It’s more than we wanted to spend. To fix it up will take more than we have. But at least it’s something substantial. Something we can grow into. Maybe even add another bath at some point.” He steps out of the bathroom and examines the casing around the door. To my inexperienced eye, it doesn’t look original to the house, but Campbell can fix that.
“Let’s check out the yard.”
We walk around the side because the back door won’t open against the heavy overgrowth. My shoes, a pair of high-heeled booties, are no match for the weeds. But Campbell walks the property. It’s large enough for his deck and possibly a second bathroom with enough room to spare for a grassy area, patio furniture and a grill. There’s no doubt in my mind that Mr. Scott can design something great. According to my mother, whose bar is as high as the sky, Mr. Scott could tame a jungle into the royal gardens.
The inside...well, there’s nothing Campbell can’t do. He’ll bring back the charm and then some.
“There’s a lot of dry rot.” He’s returned to the house now and is poking the wood siding with a stick. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it needs to be torn down to the studs. If that’s the case, it might not make sense. But I like it. I like the challenge.”
“We can’t wait too long. This place isn’t going to last. When do you think Jess can see it?”
Campbell pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and walks over to the dilapidated fence, another thing that needs rebuilding. I step away to give him privacy, which in and of itself is weird.
