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I turned around to look at the park and wondered why Tackle had brought me here. “Is it for sale?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, let’s go in.”
“We can’t.”
“Sure, we can.” He kept a tight grasp on my hand with one of his while he opened the front door with the other.
“They just left it open?”
“Not quite.” He closed the door behind us. “How about a tour?”
“Tackle—”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “Trust me,” he repeated.
“Okay.”
We walked into the foyer. On the left was a formal dining room, and on the right, a parlor. Both had big windows that looked out over the expanse of the front lawn and the park across the street.
“There used to be a piano that sat in this front window,” I said, surprising myself at the memory.
“This is one of four fireplaces,” Tackle said, pointing to it as we walked out of that room, down the hallway to the door that led to the kitchen.
It was twice as large as my parents’, and while I’d never considered a kitchen beautiful, this one was. It had high ceilings and more cupboards than I’d ever seen in a person’s home. “Is someone renovating the place?” I asked, running my hand over the brand-new chef’s cooktop.
“Someone is.” Tackle went back through the swinging door. “This is where the second fireplace is,” he said, motioning to a sitting room smaller than the front parlor. Windows with a view of the backyard lined two of the outer walls. “The house sits on two acres—almost unheard of in this part of the state.”
He led me over to the staircase; I followed him up and to the front of the house.
“This is the master bedroom. The bathrooms need more work than other parts of the house, other than the kitchen.”
There was a window seat that stretched out across three-quarters of the room. I remembered that too and the daydreams I’d had about sitting on it and reading. I couldn’t help but wonder why Tackle was talking about the place so intimately. “Is this one of your dad’s projects?” I asked.
“Sort of.” He walked through another doorway. “There is plenty of room for a large bathroom as well as a walk-in closet. Two, actually.”
Still at the front of the house but across the hall sat another small bedroom.
“There’s one more bedroom on this floor, and behind the master is what once might have been that era’s laundry room.”
“You’re kidding.” I went down the hall and through the swinging door. The room’s floor and backsplash were white tile, and it had cupboards similar to those in the kitchen.
Tackle pointed to a back staircase. “Your favorite method of escape,” he said, winking. “The third floor has four small bedrooms and what was probably once a sitting area. My guess is two of the rooms were for the servants and the other two were part of a nursery.”
“It’s amazing, Tackle. Thank you for bringing me here. I’ve always wanted to see what it looked like inside. I can’t wait to see what whoever owns it will do with it.”
He walked closer to where I stood and took both my hands in his. “Sloane, I own it.”
“What?” I gasped.
“My father and I, but with the idea that once I’m able to buy him out, I will.”
I leaned against the wall. “Why?”
“My mother said it was a premonition.”
