Christopher turned to look at her. “What do you think?”
She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes on the water. Eloise reached for a butterfly that drifted past, her tiny fingers grasping at nothing.
“I think,” Becca said slowly, “that this is the first house that's made me feel something.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him, and he saw it in her eyes, that spark of recognition he had been waiting for. “It needs everything. But it could be ours. Really ours.”
Devon joined them on the porch, keeping a respectfuldistance. “I know it's overwhelming. But the structure is sound. The roof was replaced five years ago, and the foundation is solid. Everything else is cosmetic. Expensive cosmetic, but cosmetic.”
“What are they asking?” Christopher said.
Devon told them, and Christopher felt his eyebrows rise. It was low. Much lower than any waterfront property on Captiva had any right to be.
“The family is motivated,” Devon explained. “They want it sold. They're willing to negotiate, especially for someone who's going to restore it rather than tear it down.”
Christopher looked at Becca. She looked back at him.
“We need to think about it,” she said.
“Of course,” Devon said. “Take all the time you need. I'll send you the inspection reports, the surveys, everything I have. Just let me know if you have questions.”
They walked back through the house, seeing it differently now. Not as a disaster, but as a possibility. The bones were good. The location was perfect. And with enough work, enough time, enough love, it could become exactly what they needed.
As they drove away, Eloise asleep again in the back seat, Christopher reached over and took Becca's hand.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I'm thinking we should call Paolo,” he said. “And Trevor. And your dad. And basically everyone we know who has any idea how to swing a hammer.”
Becca laughed. “That's a lot of phone calls.”
“Good thing we have lots of friends and large families.”
She squeezed his hand. “We're really considering this, aren't we?”
“I think we are.”
They drove south through the golden afternoon light, the Gulf glittering on their left, the future stretching out before them uncertain and terrifying and full of promise.
CHAPTER 5
Maggie sat on the cream-colored sofa with a cup of tea cooling in her hands watching her best friend pace back and forth in front of the coffee table like a woman preparing for battle.
“I've made a list,” Chelsea announced, holding up her phone. “Actually, I've made several lists. One for packing, one for the house, one for Stella, and one for things I need to tell Gretchen before we leave.”
“That's a lot of lists.”
“Organization is the foundation of successful travel. You taught me that.”
Maggie smiled, knowing that for all the advice she’d given over the years, Chelsea Marsden Thompson had given her far more in return.
“Read me the packing list,” Maggie said.
Chelsea scrolled through her phone. “Clothes for a week, maybe ten days depending on how things go. Comfortable shoes because I know we'll be on our feet a lot. A nice outfit in case we go out to dinner. Pajamas. Toiletries. My good moisturizer because Massachusetts air is dry and my skin will revolt.”
“All sensible so far.”
