“Or locals. There’s no parking.”
“That’s why the art gallery died.”
“And the general store, before it.”
“Mm-hmm. Won’t last.”
Eudora was intrigued. Someone was looking to take on the house!
Originally, the Captain Harding house had been a sea captain’s lavish home, built for his wife and five daughters. After his death, as local legend had it, the wife and daughters were left penniless and turned it into a bed-and-breakfast to survive. In later years, it was sold to a family who ran a general store on the first floor. The proprietor passed it down to his grandson who later moved out of the area, renting it out to various retail tenants who came and went. The most recent owner was reportedly a global marketing manager from Los Angeles who’d hoped to tear it down and rebuild a summer house, but thehistoric commission and zoning boards had forbidden it. He’d given up the fight and apparently lost interest. According to the rumor mill he had so many other vacation properties across the country, it was no dent in his purse. And so Captain Harding’s house sat empty and unmaintained year after year. The historical society and community were helpless to try to raise the funds to purchase it, as the property alone was worth so much. But as the town held their breath waiting for someone to save it, the front porch sank. The paint peeled. Neighbors claimed they could see racoons scuttling through the parlor room windows at dusk like they were attending a party.
“Excuse me,” Eudora said, praying she didn’t seem like an eavesdropper, but really, the redhead was a human megaphone. “I couldn’t help but overhear you mentioning Captain Harding’s house?”
Both women’s heads snapped in her direction like they were surprised to see her. “Did you hear? Some out-of-towner wants to open a shop.”
“How wonderful!” Eudora said, before thinking.
Both women made a face.
“I’ve always loved that house,” Eudora admitted. “It’s such a community gem. Maybe this woman will bring it back to life.”
The turtle lady shrugged. “Maybe, but…”
“It’s been tried before,” the seashell lady interrupted. “Too much work. Too much capital. Too many restrictions.”
Eudora kept her mouth shut. The historic commission restrictions were the only thing saving that house, despite its poor condition.
“Personally, I think the town should’ve let the new owner do what he wanted. The poor neighbors in their beautiful homes have to look at that monstrosity. Tear it down. Start fresh.”
The book club librarian had joined them and was just taking her seat, as the seashell and turtle ladies continued their banter in strained whispers. Eudora didn’t hear what else they had to say. Her heart was pounding too hard. Only this time, it wasn’t a panic attack. Book tucked under her arm, she’d already left the reading room. By the time the book club was underway, Eudora Shipman was halfway down Main Street.
