Page 7

“Upstairs, yes. The last folks that lived here only occupied the first floor. The second story hasn’t been lived in for at least fifty years.”

“Wow. How’d you get ahold of this place?”

“Luck and perseverance. Having a sister-in-law who is a lawyer, and a dad who is in the Rotary with the mayor and most of the city council, also helped.”

They arrived at the back of the house, and Mathias checked out the porch roof. “This should do it. I’ll get my ladder and take a peek.”

A few minutes later, Mathias was climbing the ladder propped against the porch roof. Milo shaded his eyes against the late afternoon sun. “Please don’t fall off there. I’d hate to lose this place in a lawsuit. I also don’t want to be the one to call Wilda and tell her I broke her brother.”

“I promise not to fall.”

“Thank you.” Milo went onto the porch and sat in a wicker chair. The chair and its mate were new, along with the table between them. But they were made to look as though they belonged on a porch in the early twentieth century. He bounced his knee as he listened to the crunch of Mathias’ boots on the old shingles.

Twenty minutes later, the ladder shook, and Mathias climbed down. Milo got to his feet.

“How’s it look?”

“Not too bad, actually. If you had loads of money, I’d say replace the whole thing. But I assume that’s not the case.”

“Not even close.”

“Then I would recommend repairing the section where the front porch roof meets the main roof. There are also three other spots that should be re-shingled. If there’s no damage underneath, it shouldn’t be too costly. I can prepare a quote so you have something to compare it to any other quotes you’ve received or will receive.”

“I’ll take the quote. But the job is yours if you want it.”

“Seriously? Or, um…I mean, thanks. I appreciate the business.” He took down his ladder. “It seems your family is well ingrained in the town. May I ask why me?”

“Let’s just say my first impression of your family is a good one. Besides, if you take on a job like this, maybe you’ll stay around town for a while.”

Mathias cocked his head. “Is this about my sister?”

“It’s about Caleb. I’d sure like to see things through with him.”

Mathias nodded. “Sorry, I’m a bit protective of Wilda. She’s been through a lot.”

“Of course. I get it.”

They headed around the house, and Mathias put the ladder in the back of his truck. “I’ll get that quote worked up for you. Do you have an email address I can send it to?”

“Yeah.” Milo patted his pockets. “Let me get something to write with.”

Mathias laughed. “Don’t have a crayon handy?”

“No.”

“I have a pen in the truck.” Mathias opened the door and grabbed a pen and a small notepad. “Here you go.”

Milo wrote down his email address and handed the pad back to Mathias. “Welcome to Bridgeport, by the way.”

“Thank you. I promised to bring pizza home for dinner. Can you recommend—”

“Rocco’s.”

“Okay.”

“Best pizza in town. Actually, the only pizza in town.”

“I’ll go to Rocco’s.” He got into the truck. “I’ll be in touch.”