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“Wow. That must have been hard on you.” Knox’s expression held far too much sympathy for my liking. “I bet it was a hard choice.”
“Yeah.” Not everyone understood that. Part of me had wanted to go with Dad and Carolyn, but I’d felt stifled by their rules and tired of feeling on the outside of their tight partnership. Aunt Henri had been an unknown factor. At sixteen, I hadn’t wanted to admit being afraid to anyone, but I’d been plenty nervous on the plane to Oregon.
“Did she already have the rep of being a recluse? The way Dad and his friends always talk, I bet staying here got you teased.”
“Some,” I admitted.
“When I visited, it was always a toss-up which house was spookier, this one or the old Stapleton place.” Knox crossed the room to open an old dresser, which sent up a cloud of dust. “This house is just old, though, while that one’s cursed. Buyers keep falling through or something.”
“Yeah, I jog past it often, and it’s sad. Used to be a pretty cheerful place. Holden wants me to come on his podcast, talk about the Stapleton case.”
“Because you knew their kid along with Dad and Holden?” Moving on from the dresser, Knox quickly set up the litter box for Wallace.
“Yeah, Worth was a big part of our friend group, but also, I’m a criminal investigator. I was with NCIS in the navy. I’m looking at some cold cases for your dad while I’m here working on the house. Keeps me busy until I can land with the San Francisco PD or possibly the FBI field office. I’ve had offers from both.” I wasn’t bragging as much as reminding us, me especially, that I wasn’t sticking around.
“So, the plan is to flip this place and then return to city living? Not a fan of small towns?”
“Nope. I’ve got my eye on some sweet condos near the Castro in San Francisco. Between all my dad’s moves growing up and my own various duty stations and deployments, I’ve seen enough small towns.”
“Darn. I was gonna offer to spring for Pie in the Sky pizza tonight as a thank-you for letting me stay. But maybe you’re more of an anonymous chain sort of guy.” Knox’s eyes sparkled, but there was a message there about how readily I’d been down for a no-name hookup.
“I remember that place.” I didn’t rise to the bait. And the smart thing would probably be not sharing food with Knox, but pizza sounded better than trying to squeeze in a grocery run. “I could go for splitting an order with you. I always liked their house specialty pizza with all the meats and red peppers and olives.”
“That’s my go-to.” He beamed like I’d answered correctly to some quiz. “There’s lots of cool stuff here if you know where to look.”
“Says the guy headed East to the Ivy Leagues.” I’d paid enough attention to Rob’s bragging to know that much, at least.
“Don’t remind me.” Knox headed to the door to the room. “Let’s see more of the house.”
“What? You don’t want to go to graduate school?” I asked as he shut Wallace in the room.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s fine.” He threw up his hands. “Anyway, moving on, tell me about your vision for this place?”
He stopped in the center of the kitchen, surveying the large space, which sported evidence of various remodels over the last hundred years or so. It opened onto a sunny nook with faded yellow wallpaper and had a door to the dining room, which had dark wood wainscotting and an ancient chandelier in dire need of dusting.
“Vision? Uh…flip it for the best return?” I pursed my mouth, trying not to sound like a complete heel for not wanting to keep this place. Regardless of my desire to get out of town, it was way too much house for a single guy used to small officer’s quarters. “I figure I’ll hire out what help I need in addition to you. Paint will go a long way. Get all the wallpaper stripped, then white walls throughout. No more carpet. Refinish the hardwoods. Just get it sellable and clutter-free.”
“White? Like an empty box? You’re no fun.” Knox shook his head like he was genuinely sorry I lacked more imagination. “That might work for the condos you want in the Bay, but people come to Safe Harbor partly for the historic homes. You have to show people the Victorian charm in-house. Encourage them to look past the age and quirks and embrace the details. Come on, just for fun, what are your favorite features?”
“Hmm.” I took a moment to consider the question, thinking less like my forty-one-year-old self and more like the sixteen-year-old exploring the place for the first time. What did I notice? What seemed cool when I took away the pressure hanging over me to sell? “The clawfoot tubs in two of the bathrooms. The line of built-ins in the upstairs hallway. And the dumbwaiter.” I pointed to the far corner of the kitchen.
