Chapter 10
By eight-thirty on Monday morning, the house is alive with noise.
My mother needed no convincing to reach out to Mr. Hargrave about hiring his construction company. In fact, it was his flyer she’d taken off the bulletin board at the community center on Thursday. The friends-and-family discount was just icing on the cake.
Now all the Hargraves are here. In my house.
Theo’s older brother, Jesse, is bringing in equipment, while Theo and his dad take a tour with my mom.
Trailing behind them, I do my best not to laugh at Theo in a hard hat.
His hair pokes out the bottom, blocking his vision.
He keeps shoving it aside. It’s annoyingly adorable.
Mr. Hargrave stops to examine the living room walls. He’s bald, a good half a foot taller than Theo, and broader in the belly, but they have the same warm eyes. The same open face and downturned mouth.
“It’s not taking paint well, huh?” He glances at me and my mom.
We both shake our heads.
“They made houses different back then. The materials last forever, but they’re a headache to do anything to.”
I tap the back of Theo’s calf with the toe of my shoe. When he looks over his shoulder, I mouth, “See, no ghosts.”
He narrows those sun-kissed green eyes. “We’ll see,” he whispers back.
“What’s that, Theodore?” Mr. Hargrave cuts his gaze toward his son.
Theo’s face burns red, and I instantly feel bad for goading him. I’ve only known his dad for a few minutes, but it’s clear he is a serious man, and he expects his sons to be serious too. At least while they’re on the job.
“He was just agreeing with you,” I say. “About the problems with the walls.”
Grunting his approval, Mr. Hargrave shifts his attention back to my mother. I feel Theo staring at me, but when I look his way, his eyes quickly dart to his dad.
I don’t know why but this makes my heart dance against my ribs.
Mr. Hargrave walks the perimeter of the room.
“I’d recommend drywalling over the pre-existing structure.
It will be easier than trying to make these walls take paint.
The rooms in here are large enough that you won’t lose necessary space.
” He looks down at the tablet he’s been carrying and flicks through a few pages on it.
“From your inspection info, it looks like the plumbing and electrical were updated in the last twenty years. We’ll check ’em out, but they shouldn’t need too much.
Same with the HVAC. Really, it seems like the work will be mostly cosmetic.
Updating things. Should be completely manageable to finish before fall. ”
“Same for upstairs?” I ask. Mom and I still haven’t had a chance to get up there, since we’ve been so focused on making the downstairs livable.
Theo’s dad smiles at me. “Should be.” He consults his tablet again.
“The inspection said it’s all structurally sound.
” He scratches at his head. “Honestly, it’s a mystery to me how this house has remained empty as long as it has.
It’s in better shape, generally speaking, than a lot of the inhabited residences in this town. ”
“That’s because it’s haunted, right, little bro?” Jesse stops dragging the floor sander he’s pulled off the porch and wiggles his fingers at Theo. “Wooooo,” he murmurs in what I guess is supposed to be a ghost noise? Honestly, it sounds more like me when I pretend to care about a sports game.
Theo tips his chin up. “How do you explain the weird things that have happened here? All the tenants that abandoned the place when someone tried to use it as a boardinghouse? Or the man who died in the house in the 1840s and no one ever figured out how? Or that renter in 1920 who tried to set the place on fire? Or the management company that bought the house to renovate and sell in the nineties and never finished because they couldn’t keep workers?
Everyone got hurt or quit out of nowhere.
” Theo flicks his eyes to me. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. ”
“Shit luck,” Jesse says matter-of-factly.
If Theo looks like his dad, then his brother must take after their mother, because he’s tall and pale-skinned, with brown eyes and blond hair. His insanely large muscles suggest he spends every waking moment at the gym, and his hair is cut military-short.
Mr. Hargrave sighs. “Jesse, leave your brother alone.” Toggling his tablet off, he slips it into a pocket of his utility vest. “Finish bringing in what we need to drywall. I’d like to hang what we can today.”
When everyone disperses, Theo beckons me to follow him. His shoulders are taut as he stalks toward the kitchen.
“Do you want me to find a neighborhood dog to pee on Jesse’s car?” I ask.
He snorts, and his body visibly loosens. “I appreciate the offer.” He scrubs at his forehead with the heel of his hand. “My brother and I are really different. That’s all. He’s never believed my ghost theories either.”
That either stabs at me. I don’t like being lumped in with his brother. Even if he’s apologizing for him now, it’s clear Jesse’s jab out there bothered Theo. “And your dad?”
Theo moves some tools from the floor to the kitchen counter with a little more gusto than is necessary. “He thinks it’s a fun hobby.”
“Ah. Not something you can make a living at?”
He spins to face me. “That’s the thing. I’m not asking to be a ghost hunter as a career or something like that.
I’m not even asking to leave the business.
” He’s getting breathless from talking so quickly and forcefully.
“I like doing the social media, and the scheduling, and dealing with customers. Not the construction part. But he says that’s ‘women’s work. ’ ”
“Ew.” I wrinkle my nose. “How very 1950s of him.”
A little thrill zips up my spine at his chuckle, and I mentally scold myself. His laugh is not allowed to affect me like that. He probably believes in things besides ghosts. Like werewolves and vampires and zombies. Bigfoot. Leprechauns. I will not be enamored of a leprechaun stan.
I turn away from him and rearrange the cabinet hardware sitting beside the sink.
A few days ago, a little mental shake would have been enough to upend whatever squishy feelings I was having for this guy.
But after spending time with Theo, after seeing how badly he wants to please his dad, how much he likes to help people, and that tattoo, I can tell his beliefs come from something deeper than silliness or superstition.
That’s not as easy to write off as absurd.
This all feels like a very slippery slope. How long before he shows up in a tinfoil hat and insists aliens are trying to read his mind, and I think it’s cute?
Theo sighs as he moves the tools around on the counter.
There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what he’s doing.
It’s more like he just needs to move. “My father’s not a Neanderthal or anything like that.
When Jesse came out to us, Dad didn’t even blink an eye.
Just told my brother he loved him and he can’t wait to meet whoever he brings home.
But when it comes to the business, he’s set in his ways.
His grandmother, his mom, my mom always ran the office and dealt with the administrative stuff, and the men did the physical labor, and the business has always thrived, so he doesn’t want to mess with that. ”
“Still, it has to suck, to know what you want to do and not have him accept it,” I say softly. I couldn’t imagine my mom trying to force me into a mold like that. She’s always believed in letting me choose what I want to do with my life.
Theo shivers, then jerks around like there’s something in the kitchen with us.
“The AC works extra well in here,” I explain.
I’ve been tracking the house’s cold spots, and they seem to be in very specific places—this area around the kitchen island, the center of the dining room, and the two interior corners of the living room.
Everywhere there are lights. It makes me wonder if maybe HVAC has to be installed near outlets or electrical sources for some reason.
I should look that up. Gather more facts to contradict Theo.
“AC. Right,” he mumbles. I wait for him to say something about how cold spots are sure signs of spirits, but he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Is it okay if I take some ‘before’ shots of the kitchen?”
“For social media?” I ask.
He nods as he snaps photos of the cabinets and walls. “And the website.”
“Are you responsible for the Mr. FixIt videos too?”
His whole face lights up. “That was my idea. I come up with the topics and script them and edit them. I figured that people are always looking online for DIY instructions, so why not add our own? Dad’s a really good teacher, and it might bring more traffic to our website.
It took me so long to convince him that it was worth the time. ”
I nod, begrudgingly impressed. He’s clearly been working on his skills since that first Haunted Harlow Homestead video, when I don’t think he knew what editing was.
He shakes his head, then pushes some of his brown waves out of his eyes. “He still won’t prioritize them, though, even after I showed him how much traffic they get and how they’ve brought in a few new customers.”
I make a face. “You need to keep on him because they’re great. Mom and I have used a bunch since we got here.” I cringe as I glance around at the mess that is the kitchen, with its missing cabinet hardware and streaky paint. “Not that you can tell, but they really did help.”
His eyes dip to his feet, and his cheeks flush red. “Want to see what I’m working on now?” he asks softly. Like he’s afraid I’ll say no.
I cross to where he’s resting against the island. “Please tell me it’s about reglazing tubs, because that Pepto-Bismol-colored atrocity in the bathroom is murder on my eyes.”
“Sorry. It’s about sanding wood floors.”