A few minutes later she pulled up to the curb. The one-story cottage squatted on a small, sloped lawn. It was near enough to the town’s center and the lake to make it a feasible option. The price wasn’t bad either. She wouldn’t be eligible for that kind of loan now—and a grant would never come through in time—but once the inn sold she could pay cash and still have a little left over for renovations.
The Realtor was already there, so she met the petite woman on the front porch. Pamela Bleeker sported a perpetual tan and wore her beach-blonde hair short and fluffy. She was still attractive in her forties and was known about town as a real go-getter.
Grace ascended the porch steps. “Hi, Pamela.”
“Well, hello there, darlin’. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you.” The makeup had helped disguise Grace’s bruise, but it was still visible. Pamela was too tactful to mention it.
“Well, you picked a beautiful day, and I hope we can find a nicespot for your business. This town needs some new options, and this precious little house is located just right.”
“I’ll give you that.”
Pamela slid the key from the lockbox and unlocked the door. “Like I said on the phone, it’s zoned for commercial or residential use. This nice wide porch would be a great place to display some of your rental equipment or sale items.”
Grace had been thinking the same thing.
Pamela ushered her inside the empty house. “The high ceilings offer a nice open feel, don’t you think?”
“I do like that.” The wood floor was serviceable, and the windows let in plenty of light. Aside from the living area, the rooms were small and boxy and painted a garish shade of green. “Some walls would definitely have to come down.”
“Well, yes, but that’s cheap demolition. And, of course, you and your siblings have experience with that.”
Grace didn’t want to give too much away, but she could already see this house working out. See the open space that would display her hiking and camping equipment. See racks of quality hiking apparel where the living room currently was. See the checkout counter to the left of the door, where a dining room chandelier now dangled from a link chain.
A large garage was located out back where she could store her kayaks, canoes, and bikes. Lake access was free just across the street. It was an ideal location, and the interior had been recently updated.
She strolled through the house, taking in everything from the wood floors to the wall construction to electrical outlets. A small back bedroom would serve nicely as an office. It was right off the tiny kitchen, which she might be tempted to keep.
At the back of the house she saw a narrow set of steps. “There’s an upstairs?”
“Just a little walk-up attic. It’s unfinished, but it has super potential. Watch your step.”
Grace took the stairs, which stopped at a short wooden door. She opened it up, went through, and pulled the string attached to a bulb. The space lit up. It was small and unfinished just as Pamela had said. But Grace could see the walls and sloped ceiling covered with drywall and sporting a fresh coat of paint. She could see plush carpet hugging the floor and the double-hung window covered with a filmy white curtain.
She could actually live up here and work downstairs. Excitement buzzed through her veins. Pursuing this dream had always lit her fire, but never as much as now. Because now it felt real. It felt plausible. It felt like it was hers and hers alone.
She worked hard to keep her thoughts from her face. Pamela was a sweet Southern shark, and she’d listed this house for the owners.
“It’s got potential. But I see a lot of effort and money to make it work as a business.”
“Well, sure, but you could do a lot of it yourself. And the place has great bones.”
Grace agreed. She hadn’t noticed sloping floors or any cracks, leaks, or stains anywhere. The house was built seventy years ago and built well. “A lot of structural and cosmetic changes, though. When did you say the plumbing was updated?”
“Ten years ago. New roof three years ago, so you’re all set there too.”
Grace nodded, then started back down the attic stairs, trying to calm the rising tide of anticipation.
“And just wait’ll you see the garage,” Pamela said.
Since Grace arrived home an hour before her shift, she slipped into the kitchen to help Miss Della with supper prep. She cut carrots andonions and whipped up the house salad dressing while the other woman did the real cooking. They gabbed about everything and nothing as they worked side by side.
Lately Grace had been spending a lot of time here and there helping in the kitchen. But if Miss Della noticed the shift in her habits, she hadn’t said so. Grace had stepped up her efforts at church also. She’d filled a slot that had been empty for months—the toddlers’ class. She’d also helped an elderly woman to her car Sunday night. She wasn’t sure if any of it was helping her with her issues, but maybe that would take time.
When she was due for her shift, she washed her hands, said good-bye to Miss Della, and made her way to the front desk. Levi caught her up on a few things that had happened on his watch.
“How was the property you looked at?” he asked before he took off.
