She went out for breakfast by herself, read The New York Times, did the crossword puzzle, and went back to her apartment. When she got in, she looked for their card and decided to leave a message for Jeff Parker and Marie-Louise Fournier. She knew they were probably still in Europe, but when they got back, they could call her. She wanted to go through the house with them again, this time with a fine-tooth comb. Once the offer was accepted, if it was, she needed to start making lists of everything she'd have to do. The electrical and plumbing work would have to be handled by a contractor, but she was going to try and do a lot of the more menial manual work herself. She was going to need their help, and lots of advice. She hoped they wouldn't charge her a fortune for their services, but she had no other choice. She was flying blind.
She called their office number and waited for their machine to come on. Jeff had given her both their European and American cell phone numbers, but there was nothing they could do for her at this distance. It could wait until the offer was accepted, and they came back to San Francisco, so she could meet them again at the house. Sarah heard the machine come on, and then over it a male human voice. They both tried to talk over the machine, and then he told her to wait while he turned the machine off. He came back on the line a moment later, and Sarah tried again. She hadn't recognized the voice that answered.
“Hi, my name is Sarah Anderson, and I'm trying to leave a message for Jeff Parker and Marie-Louise Fournier for when they get back from Europe. Could you ask either of them to call me at my office, please?” She hoped it would be Jeff, and not his disagreeable French partner, but she was prepared to deal with whichever of them had the time to help her.
“Hi, Sarah. This is Jeff.” As he had before, he sounded easy going and warm.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Italy, or Paris.” She had lost track of their trip and where they were supposed to be at what time.
“I was. Marie-Louise is still there. I came back early. I had some work to do for a client. We were running behind.”
She took a breath and jumped right in. “I'm going to make an offer on the house.”
He sounded confused for a moment. “What house?”
“Twenty-forty Scott Street,” she said proudly, and this time at his end, he was stunned. Sarah could hear it if not see it.
“That house? Wow! There's a surprise, and a brave thing to do.” The way he said it was a little daunting. As though he thought she was crazy.
“Do you think I'm nuts to do it?”
“No, I don't,” he said thoughtfully. “Not if you love the house.”
“I do,” she said, more calmly. “My great-grandfather built it.”
“Now that really is cool. I love things like that, that come full circle. It seems like the right order of things somehow. I hope you're ready to take on a big job,” he said, with a smile in his voice, and she laughed.
“I am. I hope you are, too. I need your help, and a lot of guidance and direction. I'm going to follow plan A.”
“Which one was that?”
“The one where you spend half a million to restore the house, do a lot of the work yourself, and watch every penny.”
“Oh, that one. I would do exactly the same thing in your shoes, particularly if my family owned the house originally.”
“The difference is that you're an architect. I'm an attorney. I know tax laws and property trusts inside out. I don't know beans about restoring a house, or even hammering a nail.”
“You'll learn. Most people who work on their houses have no idea what they're doing. You'll figure it out as you go, and if you make mistakes, you'll fix 'em.” He was very encouraging, and as friendly as he'd been before. Sarah was relieved that Marie-Louise wasn't there. She wouldn't have been nearly as pleasant as he.
“I'd like you to see the house again when you have time, if you're not too busy. You can charge me for it, of course. But I really need your advice about what to do first. Electrical, plumbing, wiring. I need some direction to get me started, and I'm going to need a lot of advice along the way.”
“That's what we're here for. What does your week look like? When do you want me to drop by? I don't think Marie-Louise will be back for a few more weeks. I know her when she gets together with her family in Paris. She delays her return day by day. I just factor in about three extra weeks. We can wait till she comes back, if you like, or I can start working with you myself.”
“To be honest, I'd rather not wait.”
“Okay by me,” he said easily. “Tell me about your week.”
“The usual insanity.” She was thinking about the meetings with clients that she remembered, and work she was still doing on the probate of Stanley's estate. She had to go to court on Tuesday morning for a probate hearing. It was going to be a pretty crazy week.
“Me too,” he said, glancing at his book. “I have an idea. Are you busy this afternoon?”
“No, but you are,” Sarah said, feeling guilty. “I assume you're not sitting there reading a book or watching TV.”
“No, but I got a lot done yesterday and this morning. I can take a few hours off now, if you want me to meet you at the house. Besides, now you're a client. This is work.”
“I'd love it.” She had nothing to do all afternoon. The house was already filling her days.
“Perfect. I'll meet you there in half an hour. Actually, do you want to grab a sandwich before we go? We can talk about your plans over lunch.”
“That works for me,” she said happily. She hadn't been this excited since she got into Harvard.
“I'll pick you up in ten minutes. Where do you live?” She gave him the address, and he rang her bell fifteen minutes later. She ran down the stairs to meet him, and climbed into the Jeep he had driven to pick her up.
“What happened to the Peugeot?” Sarah asked with interest.
“I'm not allowed to drive it.” He smiled at her, and they stopped at a deli on Fillmore Street for sandwiches and lemonade. Less than an hour after he picked her up, they were at the house Sarah hoped would be hers. With any luck, it would be. She warned him that it was not yet a done deal, and he smiled at her, unconcerned. “It will be. I feel it in my bones.”
“Me too,” she giggled, as she let them both into the house.
He took his work very seriously. He had brought two cameras, an industrial tape measure, a sketch pad, and a series of tools and implements to measure things, and check others out. He explained to her that the floors and boiseries would have to be protected while there was work being done in the house. He recommended two plumbing contractors for her to choose between, and three electricians whom he told her wouldn't charge a fortune. The arrangement Jeff suggested he make with her was an hourly fee, based on work he actually did, not a percentage of costs, to run the project. He said an hourly would be cheaper for her. He was being extremely reasonable, got under things, climbed over things, rattled things, knocked on walls, and checked wood, tile, and plaster.
“The house is amazingly sound, considering its age,” he said, after they'd spent an hour there. There was no question that the plumbing and electrical were a disaster, although he liked the fact that there were no visible leaks anywhere in the house, which he said was unheard of.
“Stanley took pretty good care of it on the outside. He didn't want to live in the main part of the house, but he didn't want it to fall apart, either. He just put on a new roof.”
“He was smart. Water damage screws up everything, and sometimes leaks are hard to follow.” They were there till nearly six o'clock, and by the time they left, they were both using powerful flashlights. Sarah felt completely at home there. She'd had a fun afternoon going over everything with Jeff. And this was only the beginning. He had already filled one notebook with notes and sketches. “And there will be no charge for today,” he said as she locked the front door and he helped her into the Jeep.