I twisted my lips. “Bill’s pretty traditional.”
“This isn’t a traditional home, Olivia. It would be an injustice to turn it into one.”
I flushed. He said it with such conviction, I felt as if I’d insulted him. “Um,” I said. “It seems like a lot of work.”
“Right off the bat, yes, you’re looking at a long renovation period. Maybe up to a year, depending on what you want to do.” I followed his gaze down. “These floorboards have to go,” he continued, “and I’d put money down that the roof leaks. But the hearth is big and central—I wouldn’t even touch it.” He walked toward the wall of windows and peered into the backyard. “Bonus for great lighting. Wright loved nature. This house is an ode to that. The landscaping needs work, but once it’s scaled back, it could take on a woodsy, earthen feel. Romantic, in a way. I’d run with that, maybe incorporate water somehow—a pond or fountain. Reminds me of my place in New York a little bit, minus the yard.”
It was maybe the most I’d ever heard David talk, and I hung on his every word. He was even more devastating when he was passionate, and I fell more in love with the house as he spoke.
Bill returned then, and it took a great deal of effort to peel my eyes from David. When I decided that their conversation was benign enough, I left the three men and headed upstairs to explore further. As I walked between rooms, the amount of necessary work overwhelmed me. I couldn’t help but feel selfish for expecting Bill to go through with it when “fixer-uppers” had been firmly in hisNocolumn. He’d just seemed so pleased with the idea of showing me the house, and now, I didn’t want to give it up . . .
“Hey,” Bill said from the doorway. I turned around to find him nearly panting. “The fucking jury is already back. I have to run, like five minutes ago.”
“Oh,” I said. “All right, let’s go.”
“Actually, can you stay with these guys?”
“No, Bill, please—I have to get back to work, too.”
“Just a few minutes longer. I talked to the appraiser already, and David has an estimate, but they haven’t hit the second floor yet. I wouldn’t feel right leaving the two of them alone since David is doing us a favor.”
“David thinks he knows what the renovation would cost?” I asked. “How much?”
Bill cleared his throat. “A lot. But not impossible. It helps that the sellers are willing to work with us on the price. David says his office is near yours and can drop you off after.”
“What if he has plans or something?”
“Liv, I can’t,” Bill said, disappearing back into the hall. “I have to go.”
I twisted my hands nervously. Footsteps ascended, and the bass of David’s voice resounded throughout the second floor. Their conversation drifted to the master bedroom and then back down the hall. I was still stuck to the same spot in one of the spare rooms when they entered.
“David, I’m so sorry,” I blurted. “You’re already doing us this big favor, and now you have to give me a ride.”
“It’s no problem. I insisted,” he said before turning back to the appraiser, who was making notes.
He looked up and waved his clipboard at me. “Mrs. Wilson, would you like to go over this now?”
“Um, not really,” I said. “I should get back to my office, and my husband is the one driving this ship. Can you just talk to him?”
“Sure, we already talked quite a bit,” the appraiser said. “There are a few more things I’d like to cover, but I’ll e-mail him.”
“Can you CC me?” David asked, handing him a card. “Since I promised to help.”
“Sure.” The appraiser looked between the two of us before turning away. “I’ll be in touch.”
I crossed my arms over my breasts, and David stuck his hands in his pockets. “The issues aren’t just surface deep, but it’s not the worst I’ve seen,” he said. “The owners are giving you an extremely fair price. It’s a steal. Honestly, they probably don’t realize the value.” He paused and cleared his throat. “But most importantly, it’s obvious that you love it.”
“I do,” I said slowly. “I think I really do.”
“Come on.” He nodded backward. “Follow me.”
My heels clunked on the wooden steps as we descended. Back on the ground floor, David removed his jacket and set it on the covered couch. He said something I missed, rolling up his sleeves before crouching to pull on a floorboard. My eyes followed as he walked over to a doorway and inspected it. He was talking as he moved, but I only heard the bass of his voice, felt the vibration of it inside me.
I realized in that moment that I should’ve done everything in my power to stop him from coming here. That now, I’d never be able to erase the image of him in this house.
The home I couldn’t seem to grasp before unfolded before me. The living room would be sylvan, rustic; it smelled of cedar, like David. It glowed with a blazing fire on a cool autumn evening. Abundant, leafy maple trees just out back rainbowed from green to yellow to red. David was there, lifting me off my feet in a consuming hug after he walked through the front door.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heels of my hands into my sockets. Pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Bill and I had seen almost ten places since we’d started looking and not one had been right. I pictured Bill at the apartment on our run-down couch, yelling at the TV. I pictured him in the late morning, goofing off as he fixed me breakfast. I’d never felt at home in the apartment, because I knew we’d eventually move somewhere permanent.
