Page 38 of V is for Valentine
“Just hold tight.”
He drove past two smaller warehouses, then turned into the snowy lane leading to his building for the second time that night and slowed to a stop in front of it.
“This is your mystery house?” Felicity asked, her gaze fixed on the brick exterior of his future.
“Yep.”
“Big one.” She kept her profile to him as she continued to study the warehouse. “What’s the footage?”
“Twenty-five thousand. On the small side, but it’s over a hundred years old. They used it to store and ship wool among other things.”
“Interesting. You’re certainly going to rattle around in the place.” She finally looked at him. “Or is someone moving in with you?”
“Lots of someones, I hope. I’m dividing the place up and leasing it out.”
“A business venture, then, not a residence.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t see having the entire place to myself.”
“Can I see inside?”
“It’s not in great shape.”
“I’d still like to see.”
“Sure.”
He got out of the car and came around to Felicity’s side as she stepped out. The light over the entryway was dim and he made a note to replace it. The snow crunched beneath their feet as he followed the beaten path to the door. Once inside he turned to the metal box mounted on the wall just inside the door and used a forked key to turn on the lights.
“These lights were an innovation in the 60s, I think. One of the last improvements they made to the building before it was abandoned in the 90s.”
“You have to replace a few bulbs.”
Indeed, there was just enough light to see what a shamble the interior was.
“We used to come here as kids,” he said, moving farther into the cavernous space. “We had ramps over there.”
Felicity made a face. “No cracked skulls?”
“Not a one, but not for lack of trying. Thankfully, we wore helmets.”
Felicity moved forward, stopping in the center of the floor, and turning slowly, studying the interior from ceiling to floor. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, trying to see the place through her eyes.
“You’ve been tearing down those office spaces at night,” she guessed, pointing to the remaining framing and the piles of debris nearby.
“I put walls up during the day, take them out at night. That’s why I’m home late.”
“Are you under time constraints?”
“I’ve hired a crew to gut the place, check for hazards, and essentially give me a blank canvas to work with. They can’t come until the end of March, but I have a potential client I need to walk through before then, so I’m doing what I can to tidy up.”
“You should borrow my dad’s Bobcat loader.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I should.”
“I take it you’ve been loading by hand?”
“I back my truck in next to where I’m working and load as I go.”
