“Maybe I’ll post an internet fundraising campaign. Just thinking out loud.”
“That could help,” he said. “You’ll need lots of pictures.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I mused.“Selectivepictures. Let’s make it double as a promo for the haunted house. Teasers only. People are curious about this place. No one’s really been inside it for more than fifty years. The ghost stories are rampant.” I knew this after some intense web surfing. “I’ll do a video.”
“Now you’re talking. But we need to apply for the permit for the haunted house before we start advertising it.”
“Oh, great.”
“Yeah. Bureaucracy. The construction manager’s best friend.” He nodded back toward the house. “They’ll want to inspect it to make sure it’s safe, but I think they’ll issue a permit contingent upon us getting the important stuff done. The city has a vested interest in getting this place fixed up. It’s been an eyesore for years, plus it’s historic. I asked around, and Max Kantera was approached several times about donating the property to the city or simply fixing it up himself.”
“And he refused?”
“Saving it for you, maybe?”
“Ha. Not as a gift, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe as an opportunity. You never know.”
A noise from the driveway made us look up. The gate, which Landon had made minimally functional, was open, and a black SUV rumbled down the short lane toward the house. A couple climbed out — a fair-haired handsome guy in khakis and a casual button-up shirt, and a woman with long, chestnut hair in a cute, short floral dress.
“Alex! Sloane!” I called out before trotting down the stairs to greet them with hugs. I’d felt proprietary about this Bohemia Beach couple since I filmed their wedding.
“Kayla!” Sloane pulled me aside as Landon greeted Alex like an old friend. I was starting to think Landon knew everybody. “So this is the man-hunk who’s helping you with the house?”
“Shhh. He’s not a man-hunk. He’s my roommate.”
“And a man-hunk,” she said, looking Landon up and down. “How’s it going?”
“Fabulous. Can’t you tell?” I made a sweepingWheel of Fortunegesture.
She laughed, her blue-green eyes sparkling. “This place is charming. Shabby chic.”
“Oh, this is way beyond shabby chic. More like ‘collapsing in on itself like the house inPoltergeist’chic. What are you guys doing here?”
“Alex suggested it. He’s always loved this house.”
“Does he want to buy it?” I blurted. Alex was loaded. If anyone was going to buy it, he could.
Sloane chuckled again. “No. But I think he’d donate to the cause, if you need it.”
“Yes, I would be happy to donate to the cause,” Alex said as he and Landon entered our conversation.
“No — that’s not really what — I’ll take care of it.”
Alex nodded. “However I can help, I’d like to. You might need an investor. Don’t say no just yet. And I understand you’re thinking about doing a haunted house fundraiser here?”
“Yeah, we’d like to.” I shot Sloane a look. She’d obviously been sharing our girls’ message group gossip with her hubby.
“I’m pretty sure I can help,” Alex said. “The permit will be easier to get if it’s connected to a nonprofit. I did an informal poll of the board, and the art museum’s foundation would be willing to attach itself to the permit. Then you can get a liquor permit, too, and have a bar for the launch party. Those kinds of fundraisers can make a lot of money.”
“But—I mean, I love the art museum,” I sputtered, “but — no offense — we really needallthe proceeds to fix up this place.”
“We get that,” Sloane said. “But you mentioned in your post yesterday that you’re thinking of turning this into an event space, right?”
I nodded. “Right. Probably. That seems like the best use, maybe with an apartment for the caretaker.”
“Which would be you?” Sloane asked.
