Page 8 of A Heart So Haunted
“That is … a long list,” I said. The paper’s corners trembled in my hands, so I steadied my elbows on the dining room table.
Aunt Cadence had always been proud of this dining room set—carved cherry wood, with swirls around its thickened legs and matching chairs. There were still marks in the finish from where I’d dragged my colored pencils through construction paper.
My mom had scolded me.
Aunt Cadence said it gave the table character.
Eleanora leaned back at the head of the table to my right. The sun reflected in grids through the Palladian window that faced the backyard. My eyes skimmed the wilted garden just past the porch, at the edge of the trees. A beautiful day. A shame to be inside for it. Eleanora’s voice drew me back in.
“It may be rather long, but it’s an effective—and necessary—collection of changes.” A miniature tea set glinted in the sun behind Eleanora’s head, aligned in a neat row on the floating shelf.
“Of course.”
I hated the lilt to her words. Her tongue wasn’t lazy with syllables, the muscles in her jaw weren’t lax. No drawl, no semblance of home.Northern, it told me. But something more.Rich people money, it told me.
My aunt would’ve liked her. She’d have asked where she was from, if she liked to fly or drive when she traveled. Where she’d visited, the houses she’d sold. Rooted herself right there under Eleanora’s skin like a burrowing mouse, ready to hear the full story.
Why couldn’t I bring myself to do that?
The pounding in my chest hadn’t calmed, like my heart knew I’d jumped a precipice. No turning back now. If I breathed in deep enough, I caught the mix of casseroles from the kitchen. Now, instead of just slightly anxious, I was also slightly anxious and nauseous.
“They wouldn’t take much time with the right help. I understand you do small project renovations for a living?”
My eyes snapped up. Help?
“I didn’t think I’d need to hire help,” I said. “Or remove walls.” A hint of bitterness on my tongue. Walls and doors meant permits.
“Oh, you don’thaveto. These are merely suggestions.”
Which told me they weren’t.
“However, if you want to sell it, and sell it quick, we need to make it stand out. People want modern with old bones—vintage chic. Any realtor will tell you this. I know you’re on a deadline, which is why I suggested outside help.” She flitted her fingers to her copy of the suggestions. “Trust me. The bones of this house are wonderful. But let’s face facts. It’s old. The market doesn’t favor builds from the eighteen hundreds. Sure, Cadence took care of it, but there are worn boards, creaking steps, and it feels—congested.”
Her nose wrinkled at the word. I couldn’t help but note the way her eyes flitted about the room. As if the ample space was closing in on her.
I swallowed hard. Play nice. Keep an open mind. “I’ll need to check with the historic registry.”
A wave of a manicured hand. “Oh, of course. Absolutely.”
“How much would all this cost?” My eyes returned to the page.Have central air checked for Nest installation? *everyone prefers smart units these days.
She rattled off a number.
Sayer, knowing my budget, balked at the back of her head. Then, he met my gaze and mouthed one word:
Insane.
“We’ve clocked, what, almost four thousand square feet? It pays to play,” Eleanora finished. “I can get you in touch with a few contractors. Quick and easy. Painless, actually. And we would be on pace for the proposed listing date.”
“I planned on—”
“You can’t do work like this, dear,” she said with a sad cringe.
I bristled but didn’t argue.
“Think about it, okay?” She patted my hand. Her palms were soft. It took everything in my power to not pull away. “Let me know. But I think it would be great if we could get this place on the market by end of summer. Plenty of time, yes?”
I sat, mouth open.
