Chapter Thirty-Six
Ava
So far, it was only Jules that pulled out. My greatest fear was that Jules leaving the pact would create a domino effect, especially since she and Riley were the most invested in the first place. I tried not to spiral into a negative headspace every time I thought of it, but that was a battle I didn’t often win.
I’d loved having Jules around, having one of my friends back. Granted, it hadn’t been exactly like I’d envisioned since we were more busy than usual living our own lives, but we still hung out most nights before turning in, and we’d spent my day off each week together.
I pulled up in front of the Van Kamp place right behind Ben’s Mercedes. Had I made a huge mistake?
I really liked Ben, more than I ever expected I would. He was funny and kind, handsome as hell. But, most importantly for me, he showed up. He was the sort of friend who answered the Bat Signal every time, no questions asked. I hadn’t realized how important that was to me until I started experiencing it with him.
It had been a long time since I’d dated, but I recognized this as the honeymoon period at the beginning of every relationship. Maybe once things got comfortable he’d stop showing up.
That was one of the reasons I hadn’t gone out of my way to date or even try to find new friends once the girls left. It seemed to be my curse in life that I always lost people, usually the ones who meant the most to me. First my friends, then my parents, and even the handful of guys I’d attempted to date along the way.
At the end of the day, I was always alone.
Watching Ben cross the lawn to greet me, I wondered if maybe I was meant to be alone. Maybe everything was falling apart because I was tempting fate by trying to have it all—get my friends back, buy the house, and date the guy of my dreams.
He pulled me into a giant bear hug, like he did at every opportunity, and planted a regrettably chaste kiss on my lips.
“As predicted, I was the most popular guy in the office this morning,” he grinned. “All evidence of your late-night baking bonanza is officially gone.”
I smiled, letting myself enjoy the feeling of being in his arms.
We didn’t have any more time for small talk before an older gentleman parked his white pick-up behind my van. He reminded me of my dad instantly. Bald and of middling height, he had an air of competency that made me trust him instantly.
“Hi, there,” he greeted us, extending a hand. “Name’s Paul. Shall we have a look around?”
After introducing ourselves, we led Paul into the house. I didn’t know about Ben, but I was holding my breath. With Jules out and Riley caught in the crossfire, a bad inspection could make or break the pact.
I’d never walked along on a home inspection. It was mainly a quiet affair, with Paul asking us a question here or there as he poked around in some odd corner of the house. He made a disconcerting number of notes on his clipboard as he went. The whole thing took a little four hours, and when we arrived back at the front door, Paul turned to us with a frown.
“It’s about what I’d expect from a historic home that’s been vacant for so long,” he began, his eyes darting over his clipboard. “I’ll start with the good news. The foundation looks fine, seems to be holding, no cracks, nothing concerning there. The roof will need replacing in the next five years or so, but I didn’t see any leaks.”
I breathed in relief at that. The roof had been one of our biggest concerns.
“Don’t get excited just yet,” Paul warned. “The rest of this will add up quick.”
He wasn’t kidding. What followed was a litany of problems that needed addressing sooner rather than later.
Several of the sinks leaked and the water pressure was low, which led Paul to believe we definitely needed new seals and might even need some of the pipes replaced. He said there was probably water damage around them, too.
The electrical was a DIY disaster of old wiring and shoddy workmanship. He suggested we start there, and that it would likely be an entire-house rewiring scenario.
On top of the non-existent HVAC system, Paul thought most of the appliances needed replacing. If not now, then soon. The chimneys needed cleaning. And there were a handful of non-urgent issues that I added to our list of renovations.
We thanked Paul and he left without much more to say. His pick-up rumbled to life and I turned to Ben, waiting to hear his thoughts.
“Well?” I prompted when he didn’t say anything right away. “You’ve gone to way more of these than I have. What do you think?”
It sounded pretty bad to me, but I wasn’t an expert.
“I’ve only been to a couple. Realtors don’t usually tag along on the inspection.” He ran a hand through his short brown hair. “It’s going to be expensive,” he said at last. “Even without whatever renovations you’d need to convert it to the B&B.”
“Yeah, that’s kinda the feeling I got, too.” It was looking like even if we got the mortgage, we’d still need to apply for a small business loan just to get this place up and running.
Ben grabbed my hand. “It’s totally doable,” he assured me, though I detected hesitation in his tone. “It’s just going to be a marathon.”
“If anyone else backs out, I don’t think we can do it. It’s going to take all of us to make it happen.” And I honestly wasn’t sure that anyone else really wanted it. Not like I did.
“They won’t.” Ben walked beside me as I headed back to my van.
I’d had to shut down the bakery while I was out, putting into stark relief just how badly I needed someone to help me run it. Luckily, that was the only part of my life that was going well, aside from the fact that I loved every moment I spent with Ben—if it came without guilt and the loss of my friends, that would be on the good list, too.
I had only put the ads up yesterday, and I’d already had two people submit applications. They seemed like promising candidates, so I decided to do rolling interviews until I found someone I wanted instead of putting an end date on the process. The first applicant was coming in after work tomorrow for an interview, and I was equally nervous and excited.
Before I reopened The Rolling Scone for the afternoon, I sent a text message to our B&B group chat with a summary of what Paul had told us about the state of the house.
Customers arrived within minutes of flipping the sign to “Open,” keeping me busy for the next three hours. When I finally had a minute to check my messages and see what the girls said, my stomach plummeted.
They’d said nothing. Not even a thumbs up of acknowledgment.
Radio silence across the board.
And a sinking sensation that I wasn’t through the worst of it.