A Conard County Courtship

“It’s more than ugly. It might be lead based.”

Her heart lurched. “I thought that was illegal!”

“It is now. But it was only in 1978 that it was banned in housing. Now how many walls do you think got painted over with latex or oil-based paints and never stripped?”

Her mind was dancing around as if she had hot coals inside it. She didn’t want to hear this. Want to or not, she was stuck with it. “We should knock it down and clear the lot.”

“Maybe. I’m going to have an inspector check the place out first.” He popped open his computer. “I reckon if there’s lead, knocking it down and clearing out the remains will cost as much as a basic fixup and getting rid of as much lead paint as we might find. And—here’s the important thing—unless you can sell that empty lot, you’ll still owe taxes as if the house was on it.”

She was flummoxed. “Really? Really?”

“Best and highest use.”

That did it. Vanessa put her head in her hands and muttered, “I want my dinosaur bones.”

“Earl mentioned that you wanted to donate the house, but ask yourself if it would be ethical to give it to a church or preschool before we deal with any health threats.”

Her head snapped up. “Of course not!”

He smiled. “Good.”

Then his question struck her. “You certainly didn’t imagine that I’d pass that lead paint along, especially to children.”

“In this world,” he said slowly, “you never know. I’ve had people come to me who wanted to cover a multitude of sins with fresh paint or linoleum.”

“So Bob Higgins wasn’t the only con artist around here.”

“I wish I could say he was.” He rose and stretched his arms, making her acutely aware of his flat belly. “Let’s go back to your bedroom. No, I’m not sending you to bed, but I want to be sure you know where everything is and feel free to use it.”

This time, having escaped her self-absorption, she knew instantly that this room had once been the master bedroom. Those forget-me-nots and the colors were his wife’s choices, she had realized earlier, but now they took on meaning that almost made her squirm.

“Private shower, too,” he remarked, pointing to a closed door.

She wanted to ask outright but caught herself. No point in prodding this man’s wounds. She ought to understand that herself. “Where do you sleep?”

“Upstairs, just down the hall from Matthew. He used to have nightmares and be scared there was something under his bed.”

She suspected that was only part of the reason, but it was good enough. “I hope he’s outgrown that.”

“Mostly. It still happens occasionally. So, when we can get out into the world, do you want to go over your house with me? I can make a list of the absolute essentials, but I still need your input.”

She nodded slowly. “I’m still trying to figure out why I hate that house. I know why I didn’t want to come back to this town. My dad spent his last years vilifying this place. But the house? I vaguely remember having fun there as a child.”