Page 4 of Hearts of Wealth

“It’s not a bad space,” I called back to Henry. “Could be converted into an extra bedroom or a loft, if you wanted. Would add some value to the house.”

“Let’s just stick to making it livable first,” Henry replied, his voice echoing strangely in the confined space.

I made a couple of mental notes and rejoined him. I dusted off my knees and shook my hair to make sure I hadn’t picked up any creepy crawlies.

“You don’t meet many women so happy about getting their hands dirty,” Henry remarked with a teasing grin as I emerged from the attic.

I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his comment, unsure if it was meant as a compliment or something more. But I shrugged it off, choosing to focus on the task at hand. “It’s all part of the job,” I replied with a casual shrug. “And I don’t mind.”

We continued the tour with me making a few notes on the yellow pad.

“What do you think?” Henry asked as we wound back to the front door. “What’s this going to cost me, and am I going to be able to live in this house?”

“Of course you can live in it,” I laughed.

“Without hitting my head going through one of those stupid arches,” he said. “And the kitchen. I may as well build a campfire and heat up a can of beans.”

“The house will be livable,” I assured him. “I will put together an estimate and get back to you tomorrow with some sketches.”

“Don’t you have one of those computer programs?” he asked. “The 3D renderings?”

I smiled, feeling a little bad I wasn’t that technological. “No. You’ll just have to trust my vision. I can bring some pictures of other projects I’ve worked on to help give you an idea of what your house will look like when it’s finished.”

“I guess that’s the best we can do,” he sighed.

“This is a great house, Henry,” I said, placing my hand gently on the worn wooden railings of the staircase. “It’s got character, history. With a little work, it can become a home again.”

Henry looked around, his gaze fixed on the high ceiling and the intricate lattice work of cobwebs that hung from it. For a moment he was silent, as if lost in thought.

“When I bought it, this was not what I had in mind,” he muttered, his disappointment apparent. I didn’t know why he didn’t just sell it. If he didn’t like it, why buy it?

“People used to build houses that lasted,” I finally said. “Now it’s all about quick flips and cheap materials. That’s why I love working on these old places. They are beautiful. They just need a little updating, but they can still hold their original charm.”

“If you say so.” He shrugged.

“I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

As I drove away from the historic neighborhood, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I was eager to tackle the project head-on. It wasn’t as grand as Timothy’s house, and it was in a little rougher condition, but it was going to be beautiful when I was done with it.

I was lost in thought thinking about the plans for the house when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and frowned. I didn’t recognize the number, but something compelled me to answer. It could be another job lead.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Catherine?” The voice on the other end was hesitant but undeniably familiar.

“Paisley?” I exclaimed, my heart skipping a beat at the sound of Timothy’s daughter’s voice.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Paisley replied, her voice tinged with sadness. “I miss you. I want to come home.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me reeling with a mixture of emotions. “I miss you,” I said. “How are you?”

“Terrible,” she replied. “I want to come home, please.”

“Paisley, I know,” I said.

I hated that there was nothing Timothy could do to get her back. It was so unfair.

“Can you talk to Timothy for me?” she asked. “Tell him I promise I’ll be good. I’ll keep my grades up. I’ll do anything if he’ll let me come back.”

A wave of realization washed over me. Paisley had misunderstood the situation. She believed Timothy had sent her away. I was sure that was part of Regina’s story. She was trying to drive a wedge between the two of them. The woman had no boundaries. She was easily the most horrible woman on the face of the earth.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered, my voice breaking with emotion. “Timothy loves you, Paisley. He would never send you away.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear the uncertainty in Paisley’s voice. “But then why can’t I come back?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

I swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to explain. “It’s... it’s complicated, Paisley,” I replied, my throat tightening with emotion. “There are... there are things going on that you don’t understand.”

“But I want to come home,” Paisley insisted, her voice growing more desperate. “Can’t you talk to Timothy? Convince him to let me come back?”

The plea in her voice shattered what little resolve I had left, leaving me feeling raw and exposed. How could I deny her this? How could I continue to stand by and watch as she suffered?

“I’ll talk to him, Paisley,” I promised, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do everything I can to bring you home.”

As I hung up the phone, a heavy weight settled over me. The enormity of what was happening suddenly seemed overwhelming. A child was caught in a tumultuous crossfire, desperately seeking a stable home. I debated whether I should tell Timothy what Regina had done to Paisley. It would only hurt him more. He was already trying so hard to make things right. The man’s hands were tied. There wasn’t much he could do.