"Miracle this place didn't catch fire and burn down when it was still occupied." Jay looked at Cindy. "When did it go vacant?"
"It was last occupied in the spring of '86," she told him. "It was rented by students, so I guess it was a miracle there wasn't a fire. What with hair dryers and curling irons left plugged in."
They found the fusebox. Jay gave a little laugh and closed the door immediately. "Give this one to a museum," he said. "A toy museum."
The plumbing, though, was surprisingly good. Jay and Don went on and on about how the cast-iron drainpipes and copper supply pipes were the golden age of plumbing and the workmen who installed it had done a decent job. Only the pipes leading to a couple of the added-on bathrooms were galvanized steel. Jay shone his tiny flashlight on a large patch of rust on the outside of one of the pipes. "Don't touch it," he said. "It's only rust holding it together." Jay sighed. "I guess we'd better figure out where these pipes lead."
"Doesn't matter much," said Don. "Half the bathrooms were added when the house was cut up into apartments, so I'll have to relocate everything anyway."
"Aren't some of these pipes the original plumbing?" asked Cindy.
They looked at her like she was insane. "This place was built in 1874," Don said finally. "The original plumbing was a hole in the backyard."
"And this copper pipe didn't even come into use till the 1930s," added Jay.
"Oh," said Cindy, feeling as though she had failed a test. Or, worse yet, passed one.
Upstairs, in the fading light from the evening windows, the dismalness of the abandoned house became sad and wistful. "This place used to be so beautiful," said Cindy. "Look at the crown moldings, the base moldings."
"Even a picture molding," said Jay. "Took a lot of care with the place. But it's a real fixer-upper now."
They were doing a bathroom-by-bathroom check for old leaks and fixture damage. Soon they were upstairs in the bathroom at the front of the house. "Well, the toilet here is dead," said Don. "But there's a shower and it even has a curtain, if you can believe it."
"The only watertight toilet is that one on the main floor," said Jay. "And the other two bathrooms have those rustomatic pipes, so I guess you'll have to shower up here and use the toilet down there."
"Convenient," said Don.
"You're going to live here?" asked Cindy.
"It's what he does," said Jay. "Lives in the house while he's working on it."
"You're going to move in here before it's renovated?"
"Saves on rent," said Don. "And that's if I take the place."
"Of course," said Cindy. But she knew he was going to offer on the house.
"Time for the acid test," said Jay. "On to the attic."
If you could call it an attic. True, there was a lumber room with unfinished walls, but the other rooms were all finished, with interesting sloping ceilings and large windows bringing in plenty of light. Jay and Don seemed to go over every inch of the ceiling, looking for stains. "I can't believe it," said Jay, over and over. "This place has been empty for a decade and the roof hasn't leaked anywhere."
"Still got to replace it," said Don. "Nobody's going to take the place if I can't tell them it's got a new roof."
Again, the assumption that he was going to be selling the place later. And since she controlled the purchase price, it was going to work. Why, then, did she feel more anxiety than ever? It wasn't about the sale. It was Don Lark. Something about him. And not just the fact that he was her type. Her type usually ended up drinking beer and running to the john to pee every few minutes. She didn't really like her type that much. Nor did she find anything romantic about a guy who had no phone and lived out of his truck when he was between jobs. She was flat-out puzzled about why she couldn't take her eyes off him.
In the lumber room, Jay looked at the exposed joists and whistled. "Man, they knew how to build in those days. This is one strong house."
Cindy tried to see what was so unusual about the joists. "Is it just that they're thicker?"
"And closer together," said Don.
"So everything is stronger," said Cindy.
"Stronger but heavier," said Don. "A lot of weight up here, with this roof. Attic floor's bound to be extra heavy, too. The bearing walls on the first floor and the lally columns in the cellar are under an unusual amount of strain."
"It's kind of circular," Jay added. "The stronger you make it, the stronger you have to make it. Add strength up here, you have to add more strength down below to hold it up. After a while, it gets so the ground can't support it."
"Really?" asked Cindy.
Don shook his head. "We're talking skyscraper levels of weight now. You'll never find a house too heavy for the ground here."
"He says that because he's not an engineer," said Jay. "I could tell you stories."
"He could but don't let him," said Don. "Unless you have a sleep disorder."
Jay went into a lame Groucho imitation. "I like to consider myself a sleep disorder." He leered at Cindy.
Backing toward the door of the lumber room, Cindy stumbled over a trunk. It must have been empty, because it moved easily across the floor, raising a cloud of dust. Immediately she began sneezing.
"Are you all right?" asked Don.
"Bless you. Bless you. Bless you," said Jay. Cindy hated that custom. Maybe after somebody threw up a "bless you" might be appropriate, but to invoke the powers of the universe because of a sneeze?
"Excuse me but I'd better get downstairs," said Cindy.
The first step she took informed her that she had twisted her ankle a little when she stumbled. She winced and limped.
"You hurt yourself," said Don.
"Nothing, a twist, I'll walk it off."
"Let me give you a hand."
Cindy had such contempt for women who flirted by leaning on men at every opportunity that now, when she would have liked very much to have a hand getting downstairs—especially his hand—she found herself refusing him by reflex. "Really, finish up here and join me when you're ready, I'll be fine."
Don took her at her word, dammit. But in fact she was right—by the time she got out onto the porch, her ankle was working fine again. No pain. But also no Don. His arm must be muscled like iron under that sleeve. He could toss me in the air like a baby.
It didn't take long for the men to get downstairs. Don wasted no time. He did ask if her ankle was all right, but as soon as she assured him that she was fine, he came straight to the point. "If the price is right, then it's worth the work to me. House is solid but I've got to strip out almost everything and start from scratch. So I have to hold on to enough capital to do that."
"If you need time to make an estimate," she began.
"Don't need time," he said. "I already walked the outside of the house and counted the floors and multiplied the square footage. Before I called you. The price has to come in under fifty."
She raised an eyebrow. "Am I to take that as an offer?"
"I don't dicker," said Don.
"That's the truth," said Jay. "He can't play poker because he doesn't even bluff. If he bids on a hand, fold, because he doesn't bid unless he's got a sure thing."
"I don't play poker," said Cindy. "I just sell houses."
"What I'm saying," said Don, "is that I'm not saying under fifty so you'll come back with seventy-five and then we'll settle on sixty-two."
"I know," she said. "You're saying under fifty because if it goes over fifty you aren't taking it."
"If it goes over fifty I have to go to the bank for part of the money and then pay interest the whole time I'm working on it. And I'll be working on this one for most of a year. Biggest house I've ever tackled. So I can't afford to borrow. Cash or nothing."