ground gaped at her as if it, too, was surprised to find itself there. She knelt and stared down at the crawl space revealed below. If the house had sat on a basement, he would have fallen through the rotting floor at least ten feet instead of only the few that he had. The damp wood along the jagged edges seemed to indicate it was more a cause of rotting wood rather than the foundation. Thankfully, it might mean the problem was limited to the living room and did not pervade the entire house.
The front door swung open and John breezed in with his sketchbook. He groaned at the hole. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”
Cassie put her hands on her knees and pushed herself to a standing position. “I wish I had. We’ll have to walk carefully in this room until we know for sure how much of the floorboards have rotted. I don’t know if it’s extended to the bedrooms or not.”
He nodded and took careful steps toward the hall that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. “The layout looks smaller than I remember.”
“It was probably made in the years immediately after World War II, when houses were built quickly and with only the basic needs in mind. My guess is that we have about fifteen hundred square feet. Eighteen hundred, if we’re lucky.” She knelt and touched the green shag carpet in the hallway. “It’s not damp here, so we might be okay with the floors through the rest of the house.”
John drew more lines and curves on the page before moving into one of the bedrooms. “I wonder if we could get a hold of the original blueprints for this place.”
“Maybe.” She opened the folding closet door. “We could probably check the attic.” She pointed to a covered access point. “I can grab my ladder from the truck if we want to go up now.”
“With all the spiders and creepy crawlies, not to mention dust and cobwebs?” He shuddered and gave a grimace. “I’ll wait until we’re dressed more appropriately.”
“Chicken.”
He waggled his eyebrows and walked across the hall to the bathroom, which sported avocado green and harvest gold tiles. Based on the colors, style and condition, she figured it had been renovated in the 1970s. John frowned. “You don’t see a green toilet very often.”
“Don’t forget the matching avocado bathtub.” She put a hand on the shower rod and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge, and she figured that meant the tiles and fixtures would be harder to remove. “We’ll need to replace all of this. I’m thinking a fiberglass shower enclosure and bathtub. Maybe a low-flush toilet. Pedestal sink.”
“Maybe.”
She raised her eyebrows at this. “You want to keep green and gold?”
He shuddered much as he had at the mention of spiders. “I like the green. Maybe combine it with a color like ecru to make it more earthy. More Zen. And a pedestal sink won’t give much storage in an already cramped space.”
“Yes, but it will open up the look of the room more than a cabinet with a sink would.”
“Maybe.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Do you plan on disagreeing with everything I say?”
“I’m leaving us open to options right now.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Back in the kitchen, they peered at the walls. She said, “The age of the house could be to our advantage because the structure was built to last. If we gut it to the studs, we can open things up and make it look bigger.”
“What about removing the wall between here and the living room? So that it’s more like one large room rather than two? Maybe like this.” He sketched a quick floor plan to demonstrate what he meant.
Cassie put her hand on the doorjamb and looked up at the ceiling. “That could be a load-bearing wall, so we’ll have to take that into consideration. But I can see what you mean. I like it.”
He grinned and walked toward the kitchen window, tucking the sketchpad under his arm. “So when do we start?”
“We’ll start demolition tomorrow, especially on the bathroom. Tear up the floor in the living room. Take the walls down to the studs to see what we’re working with underneath. And then what comes after that depends on you and your designs.”
The cell phone in her front pants pocket started to vibrate. She pulled it out and stared at the number on the display. It wasn’t one that she recognized. Tempted to let the call go to voice mail, she changed her mind suddenly and swiped to the right to answer it. “Lowman Construction.”
“Cass.”
Her father.
She held her breath, not knowing what to say. She hadn’t heard from him in almost a year, since the day before he disappeared. They’d been working on a job site, and he’d said good-night to her as he always did while she stayed behind to secure it before going home herself. There’d been no indication he was about to flee. No hint that he was even under investigation. She noticed John, so she stepped into the living room for privacy.
“Cass, you don’t really think a contest is going to help, do you? I wouldn’t have done it.”
“You didn’t give me much of a choice. It will help me get the company back.” She blinked quickly to keep the tears from falling. “Daddy, where are you?”
Silence. She held the phone away from her to see that he’d already hung up. She checked her call history and pressed her finger to the last number received. But it only rang until she gave up.
CASSIE NOTED THE time on her truck’s dashboard and swallowed a curse. She’d promised her mother she’d be on time for dinner for once, but she was late by ten minutes already. She could blame the traffic for the delay, but the new house had eaten up her day.
After the phone call from her father, she’d allowed herself only five minutes to ruminate before switching her attention back to the project. If John noticed she was distracted even for a short while, he refrained from mentioning it.
She pulled into her mother’s driveway and stopped behind her sister’s sleek sports car. A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed that her hair looked as if she’d brushed it that morning and had done nothing to it since then. It was her usual MO. She wasn’t one to waste minutes on her appearance beyond what was necessary. She took in her white shirt and frowned at the smear of something that she had brushed against while she and John discussed plans for their house.
Their house. It almost sounded as if they were a couple. Not that she’d mind if those golden brown eyes of his turned in her direction with something akin to admiration. Or that generous mouth of his did something besides make impossible suggestions or logically reject her ideas.
The front door opened, and her mother stood in the doorway peering at her. Best get inside and take her lumps. She got out of the truck, walked up to her mother and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Your sister arrived ten minutes early.”
Of
