Page 50 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
“Thewhat!”
Rhett gave me a flat look.
“Okay—so we need to move some raccoons. But you can’t honestly look at me and tell me you’d tear out this stonework.” I touched the stone wrapping the bottom halves of the columns.
“First thing we need is a pest inspection. We can revisit the porch later.”
I huffed. “Fine. The front door, then. I’m thinking yellow.”
“Yellow?” Rhett spat out the word like it tasted bad.
“Black is just so gloomy and uninviting. We want people to fall in love with the place.”The way I did, I thought but didn’t say out loud.
Rhett sighed. “We’ll table the color of the front door too. The foyer’s fine. We can probably slap some floating floors on top of this,” he said, waving a hand at the gorgeous original floors.
It was my turn to stare at him, incredulous. “Excuse me? Floating floors?”
“You can get ones that look like wood.”
“Whywould we get plastic floors that look like wood when we have”—I gasped theatrically and pointed both hands at the floor—“real wood!”
“Because once again, Darling,” Rhett said through clenched teeth, “those real wood floors are nearly rotten through. Look at this.” He bent down and scraped his fingertip against something, and came back up with the rusty, corroded head of a very old nail.
I frowned.
“The name of the game is spending as little as possible to make this place look as good as possible, so we both end up with as much money as possible.”
Our eyes met and held for a brief moment, and then Rhett clicked his tongue and looked away, dismissing me. And wasn’t that just so typical? It was just like my marriage, where my ex-husband’s opinion had held more weight than my own. A familiar feeling of isolation and helplessness washed over me.
My eyes bounced from the beautiful wood banister to the high ceilings above the stairs to the magnificent fireplace in the living room. I wanted to save this place, not rip it apart and then cover up the carnage. “I need to do some research on the real estate market in this town,” I hedged, not wanting to give in to the grief welling up inside me. “There’s got to be a market for this place, if it were fixed up properly. It’s, what, fifty, seventy years old? We can’t just tear it down. It’s got history. Look at this!” I pointed to notches on the doorframe to the living room. A family had marked the height of their growing children there.
“People want move-in ready vacation homes, Darling. They don’t care about history. Besides, it’s not like this place is anarchitectural marvel. Some old buildings don’t need to stand the test of time.”
“You’re heartless, Rhett Baldwin.”
Those black eyes swung over to meet mine. “I’m pragmatic. And I’m trying to make you some money.”
My shoulders slumped. I wanted to tell him to forget it. I wouldn’t flip this house and ruin it—I couldn’t have that on my conscience.
But it wasn’t just me I had to think about. I had two little boys relying on me. Sure, Jacob sent child support money, but that only went so far. I knew all too well that the rug could get pulled out from under me at any time. Making money off the sale of this place would mean securing housing, contributing to their college funds, or even enrolling them in ski lessons or extracurriculars that they wouldn’t have access to now.
This place was cute, and it had potential in spades, but I wasn’t in a position to save it.
I wanted to cry. I looked at the ceiling, with its big timber beams, the stone fireplace, the thin panes of the front windows that wouldn’t keep any of the winter chill out, and I mourned what this place could have been, if I’d had someone else’s life. If I’d had money and time to bring it back to life again.
But I didn’t. I only had myself, and I had two boys to take care of.
We’d have to flip this place. I put a hand on the fireplace mantel, feeling like I had to apologize to the house. When I sighed out my feelings and turned to face Rhett, he was watching me with a frown etched deep across his forehead.
“What?” I asked.
He shrugged a big shoulder, then scuffed a foot against the floorboards. The sound echoed in the empty room. “Maybe we can save the floors.”
I straightened. “Really?”
“I’ll have to have a better look at them in daylight. It’ll be a pain in the ass.”
“Oh, but it’ll be worth it!” I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face. Hope fluttered within me as I imagined the floorboards refinished, buffed, and shined. They’d be gorgeous.
