As Marjorie had promised, it was immaculate. The floors gleamed, the chandeliers sparkled in the afternoon light, and the white marble staircase shone. The ugly old carpet had vanished, although the bronze rods were still there. The banisters had been polished to perfection. The house was clean, but all its problems were still there, the ancient electrical wires, the plumbing that hadn't been replaced in years. The kitchen that had to be moved to another floor, the furnace that had to be replaced with a more modern system. The elevator was roughly eighty years old. There was almost nothing in the house, except the floors and boiseries, that didn't require some kind of attention. Jeff Parker had said it could be done for half a million dollars by someone who did some of the work themselves and kept a careful eye on the budget. But she knew nothing about how to restore a house. She lived in a two-room apartment, and she couldn't even take care of that. What was she thinking? She stood there wondering if she had gone totally insane. Maybe loneliness had done that to her, or arguing with Phil about how much time he would spend with her, or too much work, or losing Stanley, or inheriting too much money. But all she could think of now was if she paid them two million for the house and put two hundred thousand down for the mortgage, she would have five hundred and fifty thousand of Stanley's dollars left to restore the house.

“Oh my God,” she said out loud, as she put her hands over her mouth and stood there. “I must be crazy.” But the oddest thing was she didn't feel it. She felt totally sane, completely clear, and suddenly she was laughing and looking up at the gigantic chandelier. “Oh my God!” she said louder still.… “Stanley, I'm going to do it!!!” She danced around the hallway then, like a child, ran back to the front door, exited, locked it, and dashed back to her car. She called Marjorie from her cell phone, sitting in her car.

“Don't be discouraged, Sarah. We'll find you something,” Marjorie reassured her instantly, anticipating what she was going to say.

“I think we just did,” Sarah said in barely more than a whisper. She was shaking. She had never been so terrified or so excited in her entire life. Passing the bar had been nothing compared to this.

“Did you see something today? If you give me the address, I can check the listing. It may be one of ours.”

“It is,” Sarah said with a crazed giggle. She felt giddy.

“Where is it?” Marjorie thought she sounded strange, and wondered if she'd been drinking. It wouldn't have surprised her. Sarah had looked depressed to her the day before.

“Cancel the broker's open.”

“What?”

“Cancel the broker's open house.”

“Is something wrong? Why?”

“I think I just went insane. I'm going to buy it. I want to make the heirs an offer.” She had already figured out the exact amount, and they had already told her they would accept the first offer they got, no matter what it was. She could have offered less but she didn't think it was right to do that. “I want to offer them one point nine million. That gives each of the heirs a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Are you serious?” Marjorie asked, sounding dumbstruck. She had never expected Sarah to do anything remotely like it. She had said only hours before that she wanted an apartment, not a house. And what on earth was she going to do with a thirty-thousand-square-foot house that needed two years and close to a million dollars' worth of work? “Are you sure?” Marjorie sounded stunned.

“I am. I just found out yesterday that my great-grandfather built it. My great-grandmother was the Lilli who ran away.”

“Good Lord, you never mentioned anything about the connection.”

“I didn't know it. I knew I'd seen that photograph somewhere before. I saw it yesterday on top of my grandmother's chest of drawers in her bedroom. Lilli was her mother. She never saw her again after she left.”

“What an amazing story. If you're serious about this, Sarah, I'll draw up the papers, and we'll make an offer on Monday.”

“Do it. It sounds crazy, but I know it's right. I think it was fate that this house came into my life. And Stanley left me the money to buy it. He didn't know he was doing that, but he left me a bequest that will allow me to buy and restore the house. If I do it the way Jeff Parker suggested, doing a lot of the work myself, and watching every penny.” She knew she sounded like a madwoman as she raced through all of it. But suddenly it was as though new vistas had opened up and everything she saw on the horizon was beautiful and alive. More than ever before in her life. Overnight, Stanley's house had become her dream. “I'm sorry to sound so crazed, Marjorie. I'm just so excited. I've never done anything like this in my life.”

“What? Buy a ninety-year-old thirty-thousand-square-foot house in need of total overhaul and restoration? No kidding? I thought you did this every day.” They were both laughing as she said it. “Well, I'm glad we didn't make any offers on the piddly stuff I showed you yesterday.”

“Me too,” Sarah said happily. “This is it for me.”

“Okay, kiddo. I'll bring you the offer to look over tomorrow. Will you be home?”

“I will. I'm going to be throwing all my belongings into the garbage.”

“I wouldn't want you to be hasty or anything.” Marjorie smiled, shaking her head. “You can sign the papers tomorrow, if they look okay to you.”

“I guess I could call them with the offer myself on Monday. Or maybe fax it to them.” She couldn't see it being a problem, from everything they'd said at the meeting the week before, but who knew? Sarah didn't want to count on it until they agreed. “I'd better call the bank, too.” There was a possibility they would advance her the money until Stanley's bequest came through. She had excellent credit, and a long-standing relationship with her bank.

“Remember what I said to you?” Marjorie reminded her with a knowing tone in her voice. “Houses are like romance, Sarah. When you find the right one, you know it. You don't have to beg, plead, fight, or push. It just happens. And everything falls into place. I guess this is the one for you.”

“I honestly believe it is.” It felt meant to be.

“You know what, Sarah?” Marjorie said, happy for her. She was a nice woman, and she deserved this, if it was what she wanted. “I think this is the one for you, too. It just feels good.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, feeling calmer than she had in several minutes. This was the most exciting thing she had ever done in her life. And the scariest too.

Marjorie promised to come by with the offering papers the following morning. Sarah started her car and drove home. She had never felt calmer, more certain about anything, or happier, ever. She parked her car, walked up the front steps of her apartment building, and went inside with a broad smile. Twenty-forty Scott Street was beckoning to her on the horizon. She could hardly wait!





Chapter 10


Marjorie came by with the papers on Sunday morning. They looked fine to Sarah, who signed them and handed them back to her. Marjorie gave Sarah a copy so she could send the offer by fax to Stanley's heirs from her office. It was all a little incestuous, since she was the attorney for the estate. But everything was aboveboard.

“You should call Jeff and Marie-Louise when they get back from Europe,” Marjorie reminded her. Sarah had already thought of it herself. She had said nothing to Phil when he called the night before. He had been shocked on Friday when she said she'd been looking at condos. He would think she'd lost her mind entirely if she told him that the next day she'd made an offer on a thirty-thousand-square-foot house.

She went out for breakfast by herself, read The New York Times, did the crossword puzzle, and went back to her apartment. When she got in, she looked for their card and decided to leave a message for Jeff Parker and Marie-Louise Fournier. She knew they were probably still in Europe, but when they got back, they could call her. She wanted to go through the house with them again, this time with a fine-tooth comb. Once the offer was accepted, if it was, she needed to start making lists of everything she'd have to do. The electrical and plumbing work would have to be handled by a contractor, but she was going to try and do a lot of the more menial manual work herself. She was going to need their help, and lots of advice. She hoped they wouldn't charge her a fortune for their services, but she had no other choice. She was flying blind.

She called their office number and waited for their machine to come on. Jeff had given her both their European and American cell phone numbers, but there was nothing they could do for her at this distance. It could wait until the offer was accepted, and they came back to San Francisco, so she could meet them again at the house. Sarah heard the machine come on, and then over it a male human voice. They both tried to talk over the machine, and then he told her to wait while he turned the machine off. He came back on the line a moment later, and Sarah tried again. She hadn't recognized the voice that answered.

“Hi, my name is Sarah Anderson, and I'm trying to leave a message for Jeff Parker and Marie-Louise Fournier for when they get back from Europe. Could you ask either of them to call me at my office, please?” She hoped it would be Jeff, and not his disagreeable French partner, but she was prepared to deal with whichever of them had the time to help her.

“Hi, Sarah. This is Jeff.” As he had before, he sounded easy going and warm.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Italy, or Paris.” She had lost track of their trip and where they were supposed to be at what time.

“I was. Marie-Louise is still there. I came back early. I had some work to do for a client. We were running behind.”

She took a breath and jumped right in. “I'm going to make an offer on the house.”

He sounded confused for a moment. “What house?”

“Twenty-forty Scott Street,” she said proudly, and this time at his end, he was stunned. Sarah could hear it if not see it.

“That house? Wow! There's a surprise, and a brave thing to do.” The way he said it was a little daunting. As though he thought she was crazy.

“Do you think I'm nuts to do it?”

“No, I don't,” he said thoughtfully. “Not if you love the house.”

“I do,” she said, more calmly. “My great-grandfather built it.”

“Now that really is cool. I love things like that, that come full circle. It seems like the right order of things somehow. I hope you're ready to take on a big job,” he said, with a smile in his voice, and she laughed.

“I am. I hope you are, too. I need your help, and a lot of guidance and direction. I'm going to follow plan A.”

“Which one was that?”

“The one where you spend half a million to restore the house, do a lot of the work yourself, and watch every penny.”

“Oh, that one. I would do exactly the same thing in your shoes, particularly if my family owned the house originally.”

“The difference is that you're an architect. I'm an attorney. I know tax laws and property trusts inside out. I don't know beans about restoring a house, or even hammering a nail.”

“You'll learn. Most people who work on their houses have no idea what they're doing. You'll figure it out as you go, and if you make mistakes, you'll fix 'em.” He was very encouraging, and as friendly as he'd been before. Sarah was relieved that Marie-Louise wasn't there. She wouldn't have been nearly as pleasant as he.

“I'd like you to see the house again when you have time, if you're not too busy. You can charge me for it, of course. But I really need your advice about what to do first. Electrical, plumbing, wiring. I need some direction to get me started, and I'm going to need a lot of advice along the way.”

“That's what we're here for. What does your week look like? When do you want me to drop by? I don't think Marie-Louise will be back for a few more weeks. I know her when she gets together with her family in Paris. She delays her return day by day. I just factor in about three extra weeks. We can wait till she comes back, if you like, or I can start working with you myself.”

“To be honest, I'd rather not wait.”

“Okay by me,” he said easily. “Tell me about your week.”

“The usual insanity.” She was thinking about the meetings with clients that she remembered, and work she was still doing on the probate of Stanley's estate. She had to go to court on Tuesday morning for a probate hearing. It was going to be a pretty crazy week.