The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(49)
“To look at a house.” Steffi glanced at her watch. Gretta should be waiting to let her take a cursory walk through the cottage. Steffi’s mission: to pluck Gretta’s sentimental heartstrings and, hopefully, collect a laundry list of problems to reduce the price.
“Are you moving there?” Emmy’s breathless glee made Steffi smile.
“No. But I hope to fix it up for some nice family.” Steffi pictured Emmy playing on the porch while Ryan read on the swing.
“Why can’t you live there?” She zipped her lavender windbreaker when a stiff breeze blew.
“This house deserves a family, not someone like me.” Steffi stopped in front of the Weber home and ruffled Emmy’s hair.
Emmy examined the dilapidated cottage and tossed her a skeptical look. “It looks spooky.”
“It’s just neglected, silly goose. With a little TLC, it’ll be beautiful.”
Emmy’s forehead wrinkled the same way Ryan’s did when he didn’t understand someone’s reasoning. “Can I come look?”
“I don’t think so, honey. Mrs. Weber isn’t well and might get a little too tired with extra visitors. Go do your homework, and when I get back, I’ll show you pictures. If we have extra time, I’ll teach you to use the nail gun so you can help me trim out your memaw’s new windows.”
“Nail gun!” Emmy fist pumped. “Okay!”
In a flash, she skipped back down the lane toward Molly’s house.
Thirty minutes later, Steffi had to be pried out of the bungalow. She didn’t covet material things often, but she adored this house. She imagined a puppy’s pitter-patter across the heartwood pine plank flooring. Arched openings that allowed flow from the living and dining rooms into the small kitchen would also allow the aroma of chicken noodle soup to waft through the home. That massive river rock fireplace would be perfect for Christmas stockings and romantic evenings. Two ample upstairs bedrooms could comfortably house a couple and two kids. The first-floor laundry area was conveniently located. Those features and the flat parcel were its pluses.
It had flaws, too. Only one full bathroom, with questionable plumbing. Some of the flooring was black from wear, while other uneven parts required more than refinishing work. The yellowed rings tattooed across the ceilings suggested water damage that hadn’t been addressed, and the roof needed to be replaced. The plaster walls had more cracks than the streets after a rough winter. And the kitchen and bathroom both needed a gut job. She wouldn’t even talk about the odor. The combo of sickly people and cats do not help sell a home.
While walking back to the Quinns, she began framing an argument to convince Claire to invest in this flip. It’d be best if she didn’t need Molly’s help, even though her offer seemed sincere. If Gretta would sell for close to three hundred grand, Steffi could put another fifty or seventy in and then sell it in the low to mid fours. Its location would make it desirable despite its smaller size. And really, she wanted it for Ryan.
“Show me pictures!” Emmy jumped up from her spot on the living room floor as soon as Steffi entered the house.
“Okay.” She took a seat at the dining table and described each photo as Emmy swiped through them.
“It’s ugly.” Emmy wrinkled her nose. “That furniture is old !”
“Try to imagine it without the furniture. And picture a brand-new kitchen and bathroom, polished floors, a newer railing up the stairs, and wider archways.”
Emmy grabbed her head and shook it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sorry,” Steffi laughed. “I just mean that I can go in and make the inside look new and clean. It will be a cozy beach house, maybe even as nice as the one you visited with your mom.”
Emmy scowled and opened her arms wide. “That was a big house.”
“I said as nice, not as big.” Steffi put her phone aside and did a little digging. “Block Island is a beautiful place. Did you love it?”
“It was okay.” Emmy shrugged. She slid off her chair and went to the refrigerator to get a bunch of grapes.
Steffi remained at the table. “Just okay? Did it rain or something?”
Emmy plucked a grape and tested its plumpness between her forefinger and thumb. “I don’t like John. He took Mom away from us. He doesn’t like me, so now my mom doesn’t want me anymore, either.” Emmy’s flat delivery should’ve been easier to take than a teary one, yet the acceptance in her voice put a lump in Steffi’s throat.
“Emmy, of course your mom wants you.” She stroked the girl’s head. “She loves you.”
“I heard them.” Emmy popped that red grape in her mouth and then, after she swallowed it, cupped her mouth and brashly whispered, “John’s a loud whisperer.”
“I’m sure you misunderstood.” Steffi wanted to pull Emmy onto her lap and hug her, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t Emmy’s mother or aunt or even Ryan’s girlfriend.
“I’m not dumb.” Emmy scowled and snatched two more grapes. “My mom asked about taking me with them to London, and he said no. He said he doesn’t want to be a dad or change the itin . . . itinimerry because of me.”
That ass. If Steffi had been alone, she might have thrown something at the wall. Ryan must’ve gone bananas when he heard. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you, Emmy. He’s not used to kids. Or maybe he has a surprise planned for your mom, and it would be a bad time to have you with them. There’s always next time.”