He regarded her with curiosity.
“We used to go there as kids. My cousins and me,” she stammered.
The printer spit out a few pages. Brett tapped them into a tidy stack.
“Of course,” he said. “Properties have a way of tangling themselves in our histories.”
“Yes, exactly! I feel like I’ve been tangled up with the Folly for years.” She hesitated. “I should ask, though, how much is it?”
He smiled. “The asking price is just a starting point for negotiations,” he said.
Lisa frowned. “Who’s representing the seller?”
Brett glanced at the stack of papers. “Actually, we are. Or I should say, I am.”
“So you’d be both buyer’s and seller’s agent?” It wasn’t unheard of in a small town like Moss Creek, but with him downplaying the asking price, it seemed a little on the gray side of the ethics line.
Brett took her hand and looked in her eyes. She noticed how deep the blue of his eyes was. “In a way, I feel like I’m truly the agent for the house itself. It’s such a special place. I want it to go to the right buyer. Maybe that’s you.” He let her hand go. “Maybe it’s the buyer who wants to turn it into condos. Who knows?” He shrugged.
“Turn the Folly into condos?”
“Being downtown, the zoning would allow for commercial development or multi-family housing.”
“But condos! What would condos do for the town? Nothing. At least my coffee shop would be giving back to Moss Creek.”
“Why don’t we go see the property?”
“Absolutely.”
It would have been easy to walk to the Folly, but Brett led her to his shiny new SUV and held the door. Lisa shrugged and got in. The short drive gave her a minute to study his face. He had a strong jawline and full lips. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, then scolded herself not to even consider the idea, not when her mother was so keen on her dating him.
The Folly sat in the middle of its lot on the west end of downtown, serene in the shade of its mature ponderosa and oak trees. Butterflies started their little dance of excitement in Lisa’s stomach as the full beauty of the house came in sight.
Brett pulled the car into the drive and parked in a large graveled area under a generous canopy of shade. As Lisa climbed out of the vehicle, she realized that this was the first time she’d set foot on this property with full legal authority to do so. A little giggle tried to escape but she pressed her lips together to stop it.
“Right this way.” He led the way up the stairs to the elegant porch. No lockbox in sight, Brett produced a key and let them in, gesturing for Lisa to precede him.
The entrance hall gave way to the front parlor, which was as she remembered it. The marble fireplace covered in soot stains lorded over a large room with stained wood floors. Tall narrow windows let in slips of afternoon light filtered through gaps in the newspaper taped over the glass. The murky light made the room appear dim, as though it were underwater. She tasted a faint hint of mildew on her tongue when she opened her mouth to speak.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Lisa sighed. She knew it was a bad idea to let the real estate agent know how much she liked the house; it was real estate buying 101, learned at her mother’s knee. But the house affected her like a drug.
Brett let her take the lead, trailing after her as she floated from room to room. The sitting room, the library, the dining room, the kitchen and the little scullery, all were dimly lit, musty, dusty, and completely magical to Lisa’s eye. Up the squeaking stairs to the second floor, they visited bed chambers that held mouse droppings in one, scattered trash and a makeshift pile of bedding in another, massive water stains across the ceiling of a third, and broken glass from a shattered window in the smallest room in the back.
Lisa approached the hidden door to the third-floor tower with its balcony. She pressed against it, but it didn’t move.
“There’s a hidden switch for the secret door,” Lisa said.
“Oh?”
“But it’s probably jammed up after all these years.”
“We should try it anyway. Where is it?” Brett said.
“Oh, um, in one of the closets,” Lisa said. “Either this room or that one.” She gestured at the two rooms in the back of the house.
Brett shrugged and went into the room with the water stains. Lisa tiptoed around the broken glass in the back bedroom to the closet. Inside, she felt around until she found the switch. With a slight groan of metal on metal, the latch on the secret door released.
They went up the narrow stairs to peek into the tower room. It was just as she remembered it.
Going downstairs again, Lisa sighed heavily. She looked around the parlor again, seeing it for the majestic place it could be once the damage of the years spent empty was cleared away.
“And of course, there’s the carriage house,” Brett said as he locked up. He gestured at the humble carriage house across the graveled courtyard. It squatted almost defiantly, as though daring anyone to say it didn’t belong out front instead of hidden in the back like most carriage houses of its era or garages of the era following. “Would you like to look inside?”
Lisa nodded.
The carriage house was dusty with the remains of ancient straw, and still smelled a bit of horses and leather tack. The style of the building was a simpler version of the main house, including a small square mansard-roofed tower over the loft in front, echoing the tower atop the front entrance of the Folly itself.
Lisa caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned and spotted a cat as it made the leap up to the hay loft. It almost didn’t make it up, burdened as it was with an enormously pregnant belly.
“Oh, kitty! Kitty, kitty, kitty,” she crooned.
The hayloft was missing a ladder. Lisa looked around for anything she could climb, fixating on a wooden crate. She tried to drag it across the floor to stand on it to reach the hayloft. It was heavy and wouldn’t move.
“Help me with this?” she said, imploring Brett with her eyes.
He hesitated, looking down at his immaculate suit, but joined her in shoving the crate.
One big push, two big pushes, three pushes and she felt it start to move, first slow and then too fast. With a crack, the bottom of the crate wrenched loose from the rest, sending Lisa and Brett sprawling on the floor.
Fixated on the cat, Lisa looked around for something else to climb. Nothing presented itself. She motioned to Brett to stand under the lip of the hayloft.
“Give me a boost.”
He looked at her quizzically.
“Come on, give me a boost. Put your hands together and lace your fingers.” She demonstrated. “Then alley-oop. I’m light; you should be able to lift me.”
At that last line, he gave in and went to boost her up.
Her foot in his hands, she pushed off the floor with her other leg and scrambled to grasp the edge of the loft to pull herself up.
Just as her fingers got purchase on the edge of the loft, the carriage house door banged open.
“What’s going on in here?” a baritone voice boomed out at them.
Chapter 7
A large angry man with a mane of silver hair burst into the carriage house and glared at Brett and Lisa. Hanging from the edge of the loft by her fingertips, Lisa felt foolish. Her face reddened as the man glared at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, crossing his arms.
Brett moved toward the man with his hand extended for a warm sales handshake, leaving Lisa feeling even more precarious without the presence of an ally or the potential physical support under her. She let go of the edge and dropped to the floor.
“Being abandoned by my real estate agent, apparently,” she said, giving Brett a dirty look.
“Mr. Comstock, I’m so glad you can meet this lovely potential buyer. Lisa Chance, this is Roland Comstock. Mr. Comstock, Lisa Chance. Miss Chance is interested in your property, and she is a very quali
fied buyer.”
Roland looked at her suspiciously for a moment. Dusting off her knees from the landing on the floor, she felt like a child being inspected by a disapproving adult. For a moment, her temper threatened to rise up and make her do something foolish, like tell him she wasn’t interested after all. But the part of her that delighted in the house and in the idea of the coffee shop was stronger and put a muzzle on the temper tantrum threatening to erupt.
“Pleased to meet you,” Roland said, letting her shake his hand and then inspecting his palm as though she might have soiled it.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” she said, trying not to frown at him.
“Now isn’t this just something wonderful,” Brett said. “All of us together like this.”
“I don’t need your silly salesmanship,” Roland snapped.
Brett’s smile grew strained. “I’ve just given Miss Chance a tour of the property. But I’m sure she has questions about it that you would be better qualified to answer. Why don’t we all go down and have a bite of lunch and talk things over?”
“I suppose you expect me to pay for lunch,” Roland grouched.
“I’m sure Brett was planning to treat us,” Lisa said. “After all, we are the clients.” She flashed a smile. “Nero’s?”
Roland laughed. “I like this filly. Where’d you find her, salesboy?”
“Nero’s sounds fine,” Brett said weakly. “My treat, of course.”
“I’ve been looking forward to trying their spaghettini with lemon,” Lisa said.
“That does sound good,” Roland agreed. He held his arm out, and Lisa looped hers through it, letting him lead them out to the cars. “Do let me drive you,” he said, gesturing at his Cadillac. “Brett here seems to think it’s ok to chauffeur a lady around in a foreign piece of tin like that, but I’m from the old school. American-made luxury all the way.”
*
When they arrived at Nero’s, the owner came out and kissed Brett on both cheeks, much the way Lisa had seen him do with her mother many times. It was clear that Nero valued his business clientele. He greeted Lisa politely but didn’t expend personal attention with her, perhaps, she thought, as a courtesy to the fact that it was a business lunch. Had her mother trained Brett to call ahead and request a reservation in a particular way and be a particular kind of host? Or had she trained Nero to deal with her or her agents in a certain manner to enhance their business dealings? Lisa smiled to herself. Knowing her mother, it was probably both.
Roland sat and immediately asked for the wine list. He made little approving or disapproving noises as he went over the selection.
“A bit heavy on the California wines, don’t you think?” he said to the waiter, who smiled professionally.
“They have Italian wines, too,” Brett said, attempting to point them out to Roland.
Roland ignored him and ordered a bottle of Chardonnay from Napa.
“Been thinking of opening a winery myself, you know,” Roland mused.
Lisa nodded and sipped the wine. It was tasty, but nothing special. She thought they’d have done better to allow Nero to recommend something, but she smiled at Roland, who seemed to want to impress her with his knowledge of wine.
“Have you spent much time in the Napa Valley?” she said.
Roland held forth on his connections in the wine country in the north of California for a solid five minutes while Lisa made polite noises. She daydreamed about the Folly to pass the time.
“And that’s how I taught him to tell the difference between a Pinot worth pressing and one that should be fed to the pigs. Can you believe it? Movie star like that and he knows nothing about wine except that his picture on the bottle will push sales. Of course, if I partner with him I’ll have to negotiate his fee down a bit, if you know what I mean. Actors,” he snorted.
Lisa thought of her ex. Dylan would love to be famous enough to put his picture on a wine bottle. She was lamenting the years wasted on such a narcissist when the restaurant door opened and a small woman with brown hair pulled back into a tight bun came in. She looked around the dining room as though searching for someone and spotted Lisa’s table. Her face tightened as she looked at Lisa, and she glared like they knew each other.
Lisa excused herself to go to the ladies room. Walking across the restaurant, she saw the woman bat aside the helpful inquiries of Nero and stomp across the room to their table.
The woman stopped at the table, putting her hand on the back of Lisa’s chair, and leveled an accusing finger. Lisa wished she could hear what the woman was saying to Brett. Did he have an angry ex? Was he the same kind of handsome jerk as Dylan? She went into the bathroom, shaking her head at the idea that her mother would try to set her up with a guy like that.
Lisa splashed some cold water on her face before returning to the table. Just because she’d been so wrong about Dylan didn’t mean she would always be wrong.
The woman was gone when Lisa got back to her seat, and a plate of delicious spaghettini with lemon awaited her.
“We took the liberty of ordering for you,” Roland said around a large mouthful of pasta. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Bon appétit,” Brett said.
“Now about that financing option,” Roland said. “We might be able to work something out.”
“Financing option?” Lisa said.
Roland pointed his fork at Brett. “Brett here seems to think that we could work things out between ourselves, not bother with the banks and all that nonsense. I tend to agree; bankers are mostly scum. Not bad golf players at times, of course, but we’re not here to play golf, are we?”
Lisa was flustered. “No. I mean… Does that mean you want to sell the Folly — er, the property — to me?”
“That condo guy never quite struck me the right way. Wore his hat funny.”
“His hat?”
“Indoors. Man who wears his hat indoors is hiding something.”
She thought a second. “A bald spot, maybe, but hiding that is no crime.”
Roland laughed. “I like your style. I think turning the old place into a coffee shop would do this town some good.”
Lisa turned to Brett. “You told him about the coffee shop?”
“Yes, of course.”
Lisa frowned. She’d planned to make a pitch to Roland on why he should sell to her, and now that it wasn’t necessary it felt a bit like a letdown. She shook her head and reached for a piece of Nero’s fabulous bread. How could it be a letdown to get what she wanted?
“I’m glad you see it that way,” she said. “A town needs a place for people to gather. To feel at home but have other people around. And having that in such a beautiful icon of local history?”
He pointed his fork at her. “Exactly. Heart of the town.”
“Yes!” She felt herself start to tingle with excitement. Her dream was really going to happen. “Now what about this financing option?” she asked.
“Seller financing,” Brett said. “You make your mortgage payments to Mr. Comstock instead of to the bank. Your down payment to him, too. Of course, the down payment would have to be fairly substantial, what with Mr. Comstock here taking all the risk.”
Lisa looked at Brett for a beat. “What about your commission? Does this change that at all?”
He looked hurt. “My commission is the same either way. If you think I’m—”
“Now, Brett, don’t start getting touchy,” Roland cut in. “If the lady wants to go with the bank and a standard loan with standard interest, that’s her business. I’ll get my money either way, and it’s off to Napa I go.” He signaled for the check. “Think about it and come back to me with an offer,” he said to Lisa.
She nodded, feeling stunned.
Nero brought the check and placed it in front of Brett.
Roland stood, wiping his mouth on his napkin. “Thanks for lunch. Think about an offer.” He dropped the napkin and strode out of the restaurant.
Lisa watched him go, then stood as we
ll.
“Do you need a ride?” Brett said.
“No, I’ll walk.”
*
Outside the restaurant the air was clear and refreshing. Lisa started across the street to go back and look at the Folly again from the town square.
A car’s horn startled her as a compact hatchback with Kansas plates slammed on the brakes and broke her daydream.
The woman with the bun was behind the wheel. Lisa waved to show she was sorry for walking in front of the car, but the woman threw the car into park, jumped out and strode angrily up to her.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you coming,” Lisa said.
“Strumpet! Loose woman! Woman of poor morals and ill repute!” the woman screamed at her.
“Whoa, what?” Lisa backed away, putting her hands up. “Walking into traffic is not a moral issue here.”
“How many families have you broken apart with your wanton ways, you she-devil?” The woman started swinging her purse, which appeared to weigh fifty pounds, at Lisa. “Harlot!” she screamed.
Lisa backed away faster.
“Home wrecker!” She swung the purse again.
Lisa turned to run from the shrieking woman.
“Stay away from my husband, you blond floozy!”
Lisa ran down the block. From car windows, shop windows, and the tables in front of Nero’s, people stared at her. What a homecoming.
She risked checking over her shoulder. The woman had stopped and was glaring at her. At Lisa’s look, she hoisted the purse again. Lisa turned and took off for the real estate office. She could hide in her mother’s office and call the police if she had to.
A car pulled up beside her. Lisa winced. Was someone filming this? She sighed in relief when she saw it was Carly.
“Get in,” Carly said, popping the locks.
She hopped in and Carly took off. “Oh, thank goodness it was you,” Lisa said, looking over her shoulder to see if they were being followed.
“What happened back there? Where’d you get the psycho?”
“I have no idea. She was in Nero's, and then she almost ran me down in the street.”
“That’s it? She sees you in a restaurant and tries to kill you?”
Last Chance for Murder (Lisa Chance Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Page 4