Settled on the living room settee with a view of the yard, Maltie watched as Shelby checked her belted, royal-blue dress and pearl pendant necklace in the mirror by the front door. A cursory glance around the room assured her everything was in place. She loved the modern art and black furniture she’d chosen against gray paint and white historic trim. The room popped with silver accent pieces and pillows, a fuzzy throw, and flowers in sunny yellow.
Swinging the strap of her black leather briefcase over her shoulder, she let herself out and checked her watch. Just enough time for a cinnamon latte from Buona Caffee Artisan Roasted Coffee on Central Avenue. She always marked important days with the frothy beverage made with the shop’s homemade syrup.
Double-punch Mondays and three-dollar-latte Tuesdays drew a crowd to the converted bungalow, today being no exception. When she opened the door into the line, Shelby groaned and almost turned around. But then she smelled the coffee and realized Tasha Clausen stood right in front of her.
“Oh, my goodness. Shelby Dodson!”
Tasha grabbed her hand. The white linen suit that graced the Eastern European woman’s model-esque figure made Shelby feel like a pledging sorority girl. Funny, when she considered herself professional and attractive around anyone else.
Shelby pumped enthusiasm into her voice. “What amazing timing. I tried to call you last night.”
Tasha slid a strand of platinum hair behind her diamond-studded ear. “I was going to call you back when I got to the office. I went out with some girlfriends. You should come along next time.”
They sidled forward in line. “Maybe.” Shelby pressed her lips together, then admitted, “I don’t go out much.”
Tasha showed her white, even teeth. “That should change.”
“Probably. I was actually calling you about work.”
A blink, then a glow infused the cat-like eyes. “You’re working again? Is that why you called, to ask me to show some houses?” Tasha had enjoyed her role as real estate star at the height of “Dodson’s Do-Overs” success, arranging several potential flip houses for each set of clients to choose from.
“Oh no, I offered to help the couple who bought the bungalow we showed them last year.” Shelby touched Tasha’s arm. “Of course, you’d be the first real estate agent I’d call if I ever assembled a team again.”
“Are you considering that?” Tasha slid out her wallet, inclining her head back to Shelby.
Shelby shrugged. “Not at the moment, but who knows what the future might hold.” No need to burn one’s bridges. As quietly as she could over the hiss of steaming milk, she went on to explain how she’d be working with a contractor the Wentworths hired, but how the unsolved missing person case related by the neighbor concerned her. “I read online that Georgia law doesn’t require sellers to disclose any crime, unsolved cases, or paranormal activity for a property, but if the Wentworths don’t want to move ahead when they hear about the Barnes case, is there anything to be done?”
Tasha got out a tiny notebook and jotted down a set of numbers and dashes. “Find out if they asked the seller anything about the house history, and I don’t mean water damage. If they asked about crimes in the area or anything like that and the seller did not answer honestly, they may have grounds to annul the contract or ask for further price reduction. Maybe more. Here’s the Georgia code number.”
Shelby took the paper. “Thank you, Tasha.”
“Here to help.” Her blue-eyed gaze speared Shelby. “A perfect example of why you need to keep realtors in the loop.”
Feeling chided, Shelby molded her lips into a smile. “I will.”
“Skinny mocha latte, single pump.” Tasha rattled off her order to the barista, then twirled around to jab her manicured fingernail at Shelby. “Keep me updated. I’m curious. Do I know the contractor?”
“Scott Matthews.”
“Umm, nope. He anything special?” Tasha sounded skeptical that anyone of importance in Augusta could fly under her radar, and the admiring gaze of the college student behind the register reminded Shelby that Tasha moved in influential circles, as Shelby once had.
The girl offered Shelby a shy smile as she cleared the register to take the new order.
Shelby stepped forward. “Hi, Kara.”
Kara’s rounded face turned a pleasant pink. “Good morning, Mrs. Dodson. Will it be your regular today?”
“You know me too well. And it’s Shelby. Please.”
As Kara rang up the order, Tasha slid an elbow into Shelby’s side, signaling her impatience for an end to Shelby’s exchange with the employee. “You were saying? About Scott Matthews?”
“I don’t know. He seems like a nice, normal guy, I guess.” She shrugged, shoving aside her memory of the moment at the gate when she’d looked into Scott’s eyes. She’d spent her whole life trying to be a lot better than normal.
Tasha summed Shelby’s fears up pretty well. “Huh. Sounds boring. Of course, anyone would seem boring next to Chet.”
The comment reminded Shelby to keep her defenses up. Working with someone new would be anything but easy, and she couldn’t seem weak on her first day on the job.
Chapter Four
Scott had already been standing on the bungalow porch with the Wentworths for fifteen minutes when Shelby parked her navy CRV by the curb. Not that the wait had been awkward—because he liked the couple. Lester’s hulking form and booming voice made him think of an older Austin, while petite, energetic Ruby, with her white hair cut in a spunky style and her stylish clothes, embodied the classic Southern lady. But the Wentworths were getting up in years, and there was no place to sit down.
“Good morning. Sorry I’m a little late.” Shelby’s black boots clicked a hurried cadence up the broken sidewalk.
“Oh, you weren’t late. We were early.” Ruby clutched her big purse in front of her. “We were just so excited to see the house.”
When Shelby reached the steps, the effort to balance her coffee with her purse, remote, and a clipboard resulted in the loss of a few papers. “Sorry.” She bent to retrieve the documents.
Softened by her clumsiness, Scott swooped down before she could reach them. As he handed the papers back to her, he caught a distinct whiff of cinnamon from Shelby’s Buona cup—accompanied by a fresh, intoxicating shampoo scent.
“Actually, those are for you.” Shelby pressed the paperwork back into Scott’s hands.
The per-room checklist for every item and fixture, with columns for “good,” “repair,” and “add or replace” canceled out any endearing relatability. She actually expected him to check everything off today? Scott wanted to ask if she had brought a #2 pencil for his assignment.
“And do you have some paperwork for me?” Shelby didn’t wait for him to answer, greeting the Wentworths with smiles and hugs. As Ruby cooed over Shelby’s painful past nine months, Scott dug out copies of the line item estimates for each fix-it project, an overall budget, and the contract he’d already provided the Wentworths, then handed them to her with a flat smile.
“Oh. Thank you.” She thumbed through, looking surprised.
“You’ll find the contract specifies the start and finish dates and states I’ll supply warranties for appliances, take responsibility for permits and zoning, and run change orders by all parties.”
She nodded. “Good. I see on this fix-it list that you determined the water heater, HVAC, and fuse box all need upgrades. I’m not surprised. Most older homes we worked on had similar problems.”
Pleased by her agreement, Scott provided a brief explanation. He wanted to get the Wentworths off the porch as soon as possible. While their expressions remained patient, Ruby kept shifting her weight.
Shelby studied the papers he’d given her. “Sounds reasonable. Just one more quick question. Do the prices quoted for each of the projects include all the necessary materials and labor?”
He paused a minute to make sure he’d heard her correctly, then replied with emphasis. “Of course.”
> Shelby fished a pen out of her purse and wrote a statement to that effect at the bottom of his estimate. She held it out toward him. “Would you mind signing that?”
With a glance at the Wentworths—who concealed their smiles as they looked away—Scott scratched off his signature.
“Thank you.” Shelby tucked the list into her briefcase. “I’ll run this by my Marshall & Swift after I get home.”
Really? Not only did she question his word, she planned to check his renovation costs against a home repair manual? Scott opened his mouth to assure her his estimates were fair, but something checked him. Something about the way Shelby squared her shoulders and shot an anxious glance at Ruby. Like she was gauging if she came off as competent. Scott rubbed his jaw, glad he’d held his tongue. Shelby had been flipping houses forever, but Chet had probably handled the labor and construction issues.
Visibly softening as she addressed their clients, Shelby touched Ruby’s sleeve. “I’m sorry for another delay, but before we get to the fun part, there’s something I should share with you. I only wish I had known sooner.”
“What’s that, dear?”
Shelby proceeded to relate a conversation she’d had with the neighbor after Scott left the day before. She told about a young mother who had disappeared from the house some forty years prior and the suspicion cast on her husband, the previous homeowner. Ruby listened with a gentle frown and exclamations of dismay while Lester stood with his arms crossed.
“Did you ask the seller about the history of the occupants or any crime in the area?”
“Well, we did ask if there was anything important about the house we should know, and they said ‘no,’” Lester said.
Shelby’s eyebrows went up.
Ruby extended her hand toward her husband. “To be fair, we did not specify whether we meant the physical or social history of the house.”
“Well, I did mean social history, but if I didn’t specify that, they couldn’t have known.” Lester took Ruby’s hand, and Scott noticed the tremor that often shook the older man’s limbs. “Does this make you uncomfortable, Ruby?”
Scott frowned. This latest development could steal the older couple’s dream before they even walked in the door. “And that’s probably all it is, a story. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
Before Ruby could react, Shelby turned to him in a huff. “Are you suggesting I keep such pertinent information from the Wentworths?”
He sighed, acknowledging her predicament. “I guess not.”
“Good, because I couldn’t live with myself.” She turned back to their clients. “Miss Ruby, like your husband asked, does this make you uncomfortable? Because I can pursue legal action through my real estate friend.”
Ruby studied the paneled front door. “When I was in the house, I did get this sense of sadness, but I felt with your remodeling ideas, and dedicating our house to God, we could make it a happy place again.”
“I like that.” Shelby smiled.
“And let’s be practical.” Lester held his big, wrinkled hands out, a gold watch glinting on his wrist. “The house has a crawl space, and the shed is on a more recent slab. It’s unlikely we’re going to dig up bones. If that lady was harmed, I can’t see that she’d be here.”
Ruby shuddered. “Poor thing. Maybe she was kidnapped—or fell victim to an accident.”
“I can do more investigating for your peace of mind.” Shelby quirked up a corner of her mouth. “And mine.”
Scott thought it the perfect moment to unlock the front door. “Sounds to me like the Wentworths want to move forward. They liked your idea of rocking the stucco and painting the outside medium gray with white trim, Shelby, with the window muntins and front door a red-brown. I agree, since contrasting trim was common to Craftsman houses.”
They walked into a foyer in front of a staircase, a bedroom to the left and the living room to the right. Someone had painted the coffered ceiling beams and fireplace built-ins white, but Scott knew most 1920s homes showcased natural oak and pine tones. “In my line of business, it’s a crime to cover good wood.”
“Oh no.” Shelby walked into the living room and placed a hand on the colonnade—with columns balanced on glass-fronted book cases—that separated the living room from the dining room. “Dark wood would interrupt the flow of the house. Miss Ruby was going for airy and welcoming, weren’t you?”
“I do plan to entertain a lot, and I like the clean look. I want to stick with Shelby’s recommendation for white trim, and for opening the wall on the other side of the stairway and installing iron railing.”
Scott’s heart sank. Tally one for Shelby. “What you want is most important, Miss Ruby.”
Smiling her satisfaction, Shelby came back into the foyer.
Ruby turned to her. “I do prefer rustic to contemporary. Sort of shabby chic. Can you go for that?”
Shelby swallowed and lifted her chin. “Of course.”
Scott suppressed a chuckle. Miss Ruby would whip them both into shape. He diverted the women’s attention by patting a hand on the wall near the front door. “That brings up another thing we should discuss. As you can see, this isn’t one of the fancy bungalows with plaster. The builders added sheathing, or what most folks today call shiplap, to the exterior walls. That was covered in cheesecloth, then wallpaper. Around 1970, the owners installed one-fourth-inch sheetrock in the main living areas and that wood paneling in all the bedrooms.”
“Can’t wait for that to be gone.” Ruby rolled her eyes.
Scott chuckled in agreement. “We agreed to paint the sheetrock, but when we tear out the wood paneling, did you decide whether to hang drywall or expose the shiplap?”
“The shiplap.” Ruby and Lester spoke in unison.
Scott made a note. “Good. It will save money and be easy to remove the top board for any rewiring and blowing in insulation. Not to mention, it will enhance the trim work.”
Shelby came and stood close to him, looking over his arm at what he was writing. “Painting the shiplap, of course.”
“Whatever you decide, Shelby.”
Her face lit up. “We can even do wallpaper on accent walls, Miss Ruby.”
As the women discussed color options, Lester wandered into the front bedroom. Scott followed. Shelby’s plan suggested they make the room Lester’s den. They would convert the closet in this front room into a half bath so guests could use it rather than the master bath.
Shelby appeared in the doorway, frowning at him. “You need to stay with us.”
“Sorry.”
The way she pressed her lips together said she saw right through his false penitence. “I want upgrades to make this house feel luxurious, things like a digital HVAC display, a hot water recycler, wiring for under-counter lighting in the kitchen. I need to know we’re on the same page as we go through each room.”
“I’ll get out my sheet.”
Shelby spun on her heel and marched away. Lester winked at him. “Best do as we’re told.”
They trailed the women through the living room into the dining room, with its bay window seat.
“Once this floral wallpaper is gone, I’m picturing a stencil above the plate rail.” Shelby waved her hand. “I read that geometric or natural-styled stencils were popular during the 1920s.”
The pointed look she gave Scott let him know she did her homework. Where it agreed with her style notions, he’d dare say.
“Oh, that will be beautiful,” Ruby said. “And we’re still good with taking out this wall between dining and kitchen.”
“Yes, and putting an island here, painted gray with Carrera marble.”
To Scott’s surprise, the dimensions Shelby gave him were perfect. He nodded as he jotted them down.
“Can you order that early?”
“I can build that.”
She blinked. “Cool. I want all the cabinets gone. The new ones will have distressed white finish with dark-gray granite countertops. Glass uppers in this section
. Farm sink, gooseneck faucet, pendant lighting over the island.”
“Wait, why are we replacing the cabinets?” Scott asked.
Already gesturing to the back door, Shelby frowned. “I always like to start fresh with cabinets. Old cabinets are yucky. Who wants someone else’s gross stuff?”
He almost laughed. “But if you’re not adding any cabinets in here except for the island, which is a different color, why not just replace the fronts and hardware? After a light sanding and my spray paint guy, they’ll look brand new, and you’ll save a lot of money.”
“I like this guy.” Lester touched his wife’s back with a gentle hand. “What do you think, love?”
“I’m happy with that.” The brief but tender glance she gave Lester fanned Scott’s faltering hope that lasting love was worth waiting for.
“Fine. That’s what we’ll do.” Shelby moved the check on her sheet.
Mike Culpepper, his stepdad, had engrained certain work principles into Scott like veins in a board. Preservation, practicality, and savings came first, trumping even Shelby Dodson’s whims.
“Let’s go to the master.” Sliding a strand of hair behind her ear, Shelby led the way.
As in the front bedroom, the Barnes family had “updated” the back bedroom with gloomy brown paneling and brownish-orange carpet. All that would go in favor of bluish-gray paint and hardwoods. Ruby praised Shelby’s plan of adding French doors onto the back patio and expanding the existing closet into the linen closet.
Scott measured off the section of wall involved. “That’s going to make a long opening. What about if we used a sliding barn door? I have access to the right type of wood.”
Pursing her lips, Ruby stood back with a hand on her hip. “Yes. That would warm up the room.”
That seemed to spur an idea for Shelby, who rushed into the bathroom.
He followed her. “You’re keeping the bead board trim in here, right?”
“Yes, I love it. What you said gave me an idea. I wasn’t sure if we could fit a double vanity in here, but if I found an old dresser and painted it the color of the kitchen island, it would complement the barn door.”
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