Page 25 of Stone
His smile grew wider. “I do. It’s attached to my room. I use it as an office/planning area now, but I’m thinking of turning it into a sitting room once the renovations are done.”
“Oh, and that porch. And the gingerbread detail…” She strained against her seat belt to get a better look.
“There’s another off the kitchen, but yeah, the front one is something,” he said, eyeing the details currently holding her attention. Intricately carved railings and decorative trim framedthe wide porch that hugged the front of the home before curving around the south side. The woodwork was beautiful, harkening back to a time when craftsmanship thrived. Although he had to admit, it was a bitch to paint.
“The tower, though…” She craned her head again. “Those windows look new, which means they have to be double-paned. How on earth did you find curved double-paned windows?” The ones at the top were small and square, but the larger ones—two rows of three—followed the curve of the tower.
“It wasn’t easy, especially not as a retrofit rather than a new build, but there’s a place in Tennessee that makes them.” He followed the drive around the house, then turned into the garage. Originally, the space had been used to store farm equipment, but he’d managed to repurpose it without changing the exterior.
“How did you even find this place?” she asked as they climbed out of his truck.
“Online,” he answered, opening the back door and grabbing both her bag and the pizza while she reached for the salad.
“It was going up for auction. The timing wasn’t great for the sellers. There had been a few fires in the area, and no one wanted to buy.”
“Do you know what colors you’re going to paint it?”
The entire building was currently coated in a white protective primer. The detailed painting he had planned was the last thing on his list to do. “I have an idea. I’ll show you the samples after we eat.”
“And fires, do you worry about them?” She paused before stepping through the door. “Dumb question, weallworry about fires.”
He inclined his head as he led her through a hall, passing a mudroom, powder room, and storage pantry before entering his kitchen. “I installed both interior and exterior sprinkler systems.I also have solar-powered batteries in case the power gets cut, and an ag well with a good water source. Those were my biggest expenses, since I couldn’t do the work myself. I hope I never need them, but it helped with my insurance.”
“It’s a labor of love, isn’t it?” she said, turning in a slow circle and taking in the kitchen and butler’s pantry that led to the dining room. A pang of embarrassment shot through him as he watched her. The house was huge and formal and had things like a dining room and a sitting room, in addition to a living room and a parlor. Would she think he’d been attracted to those things? Attracted to the formality and obvious wealth of the original owners? Would she think him pretentious or grasping?
She set the salad down and, without a word, walked into the butler’s pantry. Pausing, she studied the built-ins that lined one wall. A delicately carved set of dark wood drawers and cabinets filled the lower half. Glass-front shelves framed with the same deep, rich wood occupied the top. He suspected the bottom had been used to store china and serving dishes and the top, perhaps to store more showy items, like silver.
She lifted a hand and ran her finger along the carvings. “When was the house built?”
“1876.”
She traced another carving. “Imagine the history this place has seen. The people who’ve dined here, the children raised here, the family members who may have died here. It’s a place of wonder.” She paused, then turned and looked at him, a rueful smile on her lips. “I often wish that ‘if these walls could talk’ was more than a saying. Although, admittedly, that would be creepy as hell.”
His earlier embarrassment drained away, and he smiled. She understood. It wasn’t the grandeur of the home that mattered, but the feelings it evoked. From the contrast between the stately size and the whimsical details, to the worn tread of the wide-planked floors, to the way it invited you in to explore, to ask questions, to be curious—about the past, the present, and even the future. It was an adventure enclosed behind walls. Some people might think him crazy for attributing so much to a house, but with a house like his, why wouldn’t he allow a little wonder into his life?
“I’ll put the pizza in the oven to reheat and we can start with the salad,” he suggested.
She nodded and rejoined him. “Plates?” she asked. He directed her to the cabinet, then pointed out where he kept the silverware and napkins as he slid the pizza into the oven. Less than five minutes later, they were seated at the table, tucking into their salad.
“Can I get a tour after we eat?” she asked before spearing a beet.
He nodded. “You can pick which room you want, too. There are two furnished guest rooms, one upstairs and one down.”
“You’re upstairs?” He nodded. “Will you think less of me if I want to be on the same floor as you?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s my preference, too.”
“Then that’s settled. What’s next?” she asked before carving off a piece of goat cheese and popping it into her mouth.
“In terms of…”
“Polinsky, Lowery, and Gregor. It was easy to get caught up in all the details today, but what’s the bigger picture?” She paused, then wrinkled her nose. “I guess my ‘one thing at a time’ mantra only selectively applies.”
He waved her concern off with his fork. “You have brain space now to think about the bigger picture. And information to fill in the blanks. It makes sense that you’re asking what’s next. I don’t have an answer, though. Ideally, I’d like for us to figure out how the three men are connected. Then maybe it’s as easy as turning everything over to the authorities. Or maybe to thatreporter, Anna Palmer. Actually,” he said, his mind taking a new path, “we should add her to the list of people to investigate. Based on what you heard, it sounds like she’s asking questions about Lowery already, or at least looking into him. If she’s really digging up dirt, she might be someone to introduce ourselves to.”
“I’ll do that tonight,” Juliana said.
“You should try to sleep,” he countered. “Want a glass of wine—or something else—to help?” he asked, rising to pull the pizza from the oven.
