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“Yep. Go for it. Just go through and look at whatever you need to. I’ll be around if you have any questions.”
I usher him upstairs, a fake smile pasted on my face, and then whirl around, looking for Benjamin.
“Benjamin?” I hiss into the living room when Gary is safely out of earshot. I don’t want him to think I’m truly crazy and talking to myself on top of everything else. “Ben?”
“Here!” Ben’s voice comes from the hall closest, muffled and faint.
I stride over and swing the door open, staring at him. He’s hunched his more-than-six-foot frame over, bent low to fit in under the closet’s shelving unit. Musty old coats hang on either side of him.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I hiss at him.
“Is that guy gone?” He peers fearfully out the door.
“He’s upstairs! Doing the home inspection. What areyoudoing?”
“I don’t want him to recognize me.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I say under my breath. “You’re really full of yourself, you know that? This guy is at least 50, living in Clover Springs. He’s probably never evenheardof you.”
“You never know!” Benjamin stage-whispers back.
There’s a bump upstairs and Benjamin retreats behind some coats, a look of genuine fear in his eyes. I can’t help but smirk.
“He’s not one of your little groupies, Ben!”
“I know, I know. But look, just to play it safe, I’m gonna camp out here until he’s gone. The last thing you want is paparazzi swarming this place, right?”
He’s got a point.
“Fine. But what if he wants to look in the closet?”
“Don’t let him.”
“For Pete’s sake. Okay, I’ll—” I hear steps above and shut the door quickly.
Seconds later, Gary emerges at the top of the stairs.
“I gotta say, you’re gonna have some real work to do, Miss Kincaid. And I’m only on the top floor.”
“Thanks, Gary,” I say with annoyance. I hear a muffled chuckle from inside the closet.
“Hush,” I whisper fiercely to the door.
“Excuse me?” Gary looks at me in confusion.
“Nothing! How about we tackle the ground floor next? Your plumber friend was already here this morning to take care of that leak, you see.”
“Whew,” Gary gives a low whistle as he surveys the damage from yesterday’s indoor waterfall. “Shame that you didn’t get the plumber in here earlier. Coulda spared yourself all that structural damage. Gonna need some mildew removal too, I bet. Hopefully none of that black mold growing. That mold remediation can cost a pretty penny, ya’ know.”
“Fingers crossed!” I am keeping my tone bright and cheerful on purpose. I’m secretly seething inside, but don’t want to take my rage out on poor Gary.
Not knowing what else to do, I trail after the contractor as he continues going through the house. He has a page on his clipboard for every room, where he stops to note down all the issues he identifies. As I feared, his expert eye is noting problems that I would have never guessed existed. By the time we’ve finished the ground floor, I’ve already taken down and redone my ponytail twice, a nervous habit I’ve had since I was a kid.
“Alrighty, one last stop. The basement,” Gary says grimly, heading to the stairs that lead to the recording studio. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed that the foundation is in good order, Miss Kincaid. A faulty foundation is no joke. If it’s bad, some people end up just tearing the whole place down, to be honest with ya’. You might think about doing the same.”
“Let’s just see how it looks first,” I say shortly. The thought of having to call my dad to tell him that we’re better off simply tearing Rose Manor down is horrifying, not to mention heart-breaking. I have mixed memories of our family’s time here. It was tempestuous with Nanette’s antics and Benjamin being a brooding teenager. But it was still our family home for a while. And it’s so serene, tucked away from the big bad world.
“What in tarnation is all of this?” Gary has stopped short at the bottom of the stairs.
