Page 90 of All Wrong
Handyman’s special. Charming fixer-upper. Rustic.
When Corinne looked at the place, she saw not its current state of disrepair, but its potential. Her hands flexed in anticipation of scraping and patching, sanding, painting, and polishing. But that was surface-level stuff. What she needed was an expert opinion.
She stepped out onto the porch, taking in the intricate, elaborate woodwork and the tongue and groove ceiling that most likely predated her grandparents.
A sturdy pickup truck rambled up the overgrown drive and parked beside her vehicle. A moment later, the massive form of Johnny Connelly eased out from behind the wheel as he offered a wave. Corinne didn’t know him all that well. They’d exchanged a few words every now and then at Callaghan-Connelly events, enough that she didn’t feel too weird about calling him out to look at the place. Not only did he own a construction company, but he alsoran a highly successful restoration business. If anyone could tell her if her crazy ideas could become reality, it was him.
“Thanks for coming all the way out here,” Corinne said.
“My pleasure.”
They walked around the exterior first. Johnny didn’t say much. He stopped and paused often, examining, knocking. Every now and then, he extended a long leg to tap his steel-toed boot against something.
They went inside, starting in the basement, working their way around each of the three floors, ending in the attic. Corinne trailed along and listened as he pointed out things, both good and bad.
“So, what do you think?” Corinne asked when they emerged on the porch.
“I think you get what you pay for,” Johnny said with a wry smile. “But she’s got good bones. Mind if I ask why you’re thinking of buying a place like this? Seems like a lot of house for one person.”
She told him about her vision. All of it.
When she was finished, he whistled softly. “Is that all?”
“Are you going to tell me I’m nuts for even considering this?”
“No. I think it’s an awesome idea. That being said, it’s a huge undertaking. We’re talking lots of time and money.”
“I know.” She couldn’t think of a better use of her savings, and with luck, she wouldn’t be doing it alone.
“Does anyone else know about this?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. Can we keep this between us for now?”
He cocked his head. “Sure. My lips are sealed. But I have to ask, why?”
Corinne turned and looked out at the expanse of neglected lawn. She’d been honest with him thus far, and she had no reason to stop now. “Because I’m not sure things are going to work out the way I want.”
His smile was as kind as it was confident. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” she said, summoning a smile and wishing she felt as certain as he seemed to be. “Thanks, Johnny.”
“Anytime.”
Long after Johnny left, Corinne was still wandering around the property, envisioning thefuture. The images were so clear. When she tried to picture things going any other way, she got nothing.
Then, she got in the SUV, grabbed her phone, and dialed the number. When the call went through, Corinne took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready to put an offer in on the Lockheart property …”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
NICK
“Gotcha,” Nick said with a sense of satisfaction as he ran his finger around the inside of a journal bearing and came away with tiny grains of sand.
It had taken most of the day and required dismantling of the engine block, but he now knew, without a doubt, the source of the metal shavings in the oil. The engine would require a total rebuild, which he’d be glad to do, but that was the owner’s call to make, not his.
He wiped his hands and moved over to the wall where the orders were mounted on clipboards to pick his next job.
This—this—was his world. Where things made sense. Some issues were harder to diagnose than others, but essentially, it all boiled down to the same thing. Identify the problem. Fix or replace. Repeat. If only life was like that.
