The Homewreckers(18)

* * *



The first thing Hattie noticed was the kitchen ceiling. Most of the plaster from it was now arrayed across the countertops and floors.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “What do you wanna bet there’s a leaky bathroom upstairs, right above this kitchen?”

“I never bet on a sure thing,” Cass said. “But what about the rest of this horror show?”

The room was lined with knotty pine cabinets. Most of the warped cupboard doors hung open, exposing shelves bristling with dishes, glassware, and canned goods. The countertops were harvest-gold laminate. The floor was a checkerboard pattern of avocado green and harvest-gold roll vinyl. The stove and refrigerator were avocado green and spotted with rust.

“If they had a contest for fugliest kitchen, this one would win first place,” Hattie said.

“We’ve wasted enough time here,” Cass replied. “You saw the sign. It’s condemned. Let’s just go back to town, and see if Mom came up with any serious contenders.”

Hattie reluctantly followed Cass around to the front of the house. She took one last look over her shoulder before starting down the driveway toward the truck. “There’s something about this house, Cass. It’s a hundred years old. It’s crying out to be saved.”

“Not by us,” Cass said.



* * *



Cass’s phone rang just as they were about to climb into Hattie’s truck. “It’s Mom.” She tapped the speaker button and answered.

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

“Are y’all still out at Tybee?”

“Just getting ready to leave,” Hattie said.

“Did you find the house?”

“What’s left of it,” Cass said. “It’s a wreck. The city’s condemned it and it’s all boarded up. Guess you better go back to cold-calling real estate agents.”

“Maybe not. I been doing some snooping around. Talked to a lady who’s known Mavis Creedmore for years. That house was left to Mavis and her two younger cousins by their grandma. One cousin lives way up north and hasn’t been home in years, and the other, Holland Senior, lives in Ardsley Park. I guess his son is the boy who played football at Cardinal Mooney. Holland Senior was some kind of stockbroker, but he’s retired now.

“Mavis claims she had no idea about the liens, or that the house had been condemned, until one of the Tybee neighbors called her recently and asked why the family had let things go so bad out there. She’s hopping mad about the whole thing.”

“I’m surprised none of the family living in town ever asked her the same thing,” Hattie put in.

“Those Creedmores are bad to feud. Did y’all go in the house?”

“There’s a big no-trespassing sign nailed to the porch,” Cass protested. “But we looked in the windows. Ugh. The place is a teardown.”

“Hold on, now,” Zenobia said. “I called out to Tybee City Hall. Talked to a nice lady there named Carol Branch. The city condemned the property because neighbors were calling and complaining about it being an eyesore and a public nuisance.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Cass asked.

“In this case, it means the city just got some federal grant money to incentivize private investment in historic but distressed properties,” Zenobia said. “They’re gonna auction that house off through sealed bids. Starting price is twenty-eight thousand and change, which is the amount owed for back taxes and delinquency fees.”

“What?” Hattie shouted into the phone. “That’s crazy! A beachfront house on Tybee for under thirty thousand?”

“There’s a catch,” Zenobia cautioned. “More than one, actually. The buyer has to conform to all kinds of historic preservation regulations. The house has to keep to the same footprint, which means no additions. All changes to the exterior of the house have to be ‘sensitive to the historic nature of the original home,’ whatever that means.”

“We’ve done houses within Savannah’s historic district and dealt with those kinds of regs before,” Hattie said. “The rules are a pain in the butt, but it’s not impossible.”

“All work on the house has to pass city inspections. And the work has to be completed within twelve months,” Zenobia went on.

“What else did this Carol Branch say, Zen?”

“The feds require that the city advertise the house on their website for a month and the time’s up this week. Buyers have to submit a sealed bid to the city, with a certified check by noon this Thursday.”

“That’s the day after tomorrow,” Cass said. She looked over at Hattie. “Even if you were interested, where would you get that kind of money that fast?”

Hattie jingled her truck keys, a nervous habit she’d picked up from Hank. “Zen, how soon could we get into the house to take a look around?”

“You can’t. House is being sold as is.”

Cass waved a finger in Hattie’s face. “No. Do not do this. I know you think you’ve got something to prove, but this house is not the one. It’s got bad vibes.”

“There’s no such thing as bad vibes.” Hattie cranked the truck’s ignition.