Chapter 16
“It’s a cold one today,” he called, holding out his hand to shake hands first with Anita and then Gordon. “I’m glad you’re dressed warmly. It feels even colder in there.” He gestured toward the door of Candy Alley with his head. “At least out here there’s sunshine.”
“Did you go through it already?” Anita asked.
Tim nodded. “I prefer to tour a property on my own before taking a client to see it.”
“Well,” Anita asked, “first impressions?”
Tim grimaced. “Are you afraid of mice?”
“Oh gosh,” Anita said. “They’re not my favorite. Do you think they’ve got a mouse?”
“I’m certain of it,” Tim said. “And not just a mouse—but a nest of them. Maybe even a mischief.”
Anita gave him a puzzled look. “I take it that means more than a nest.”
“I’m afraid it does,” Tim said. “When Charlotte passed away, her heirs locked the door and walked away. None of the inventory was cleared out. It’s obvious that food attracts mice—or rats. I’m honestly not sure which. Could be both.”
Anita shuddered.
Tim put his hand on her elbow. “The place is full of trash, debris, and scat. I’ve already called the executor’s attorney about the deplorable state of the property.
He promised they’d send an exterminator in immediately and have the debris hauled away, but it might take days to schedule someone.
Would you like to wait until the premises have been treated? ”
“I’ll book another trip out here,” Gordon said, “if you want to postpone this viewing.”
Anita shook her head. “Nope. I don’t want to wait. I’ve been thinking about nothing else for the past two days. Let’s go inside.”
Tim smiled. “I thought you’d say that.” He reached into the bag he was holding.
“I nipped into Westbury Hardware and picked up these masks for us. We don’t want to contract hantavirus.
” He handed one to Anita and one to Gordon before putting on his own.
“Let’s get started,” he said, opening the door and ushering them inside.
The shop walls were lined with honey-colored wooden shelves.
Original wood and glass display cases stood two deep, back-to-back, in the center of the room.
Behind their grimy glass was a mountain of shredded paper boxes and wrappers, once vivid with the colors of the candies they had protected.
A vintage National cash register sat at the end of a wooden counter, its brass badly tarnished.
Cobwebs hung from the rafters. A glass apothecary jar, supporting an accumulation of dust like unblemished snow, contained peppermint sticks.
The tag hanging from the lid bore the price: five cents or three for a dime.
In sharp contrast with everything around them, the red and white candies looked pristine and inviting.
Anita took two steps into the room, her shoes pulverizing the scat beneath her feet.
Tim switched on small LED flashlights and handed one to each of them. “The electricity hasn’t been turned on for ages,” he said.
“You didn’t exaggerate, Tim. This is pretty bad,” Anita said.
“I’m sorry to say this room is in better shape than any of the others. Are you sure you want to continue?”
“I do,” Anita said. She turned to Gordon. “This is way worse than we thought. If you don’t want to keep going, I completely understand.”
“There’s no chance you’re proceeding without me,” Gordon said.
“Follow me,” Tim said, opening a wooden door at the back of the shop.
Cartons that had once held candy were piled high along the walls.
Some lay strewn across the floor. All of them had been attacked by rodents.
Tim trained his flashlight on the far corner of the room.
“This was where she stored her inventory. Can you make out that odd-looking door in the corner?”
Anita and Gordon both nodded.
“That’s a dumbwaiter,” Tim said. “It may be broken, but I think it’s repairable.”
“It looks like a large dumbwaiter,” Gordon said.
“I agree,” Tim said. “That might be a good thing if you wanted to put in an elevator. The space would probably be big enough.”
“If we use the second floor as part of our museum, I’d like to put in an elevator,” Anita said. “I want my museum to be accessible.”
“Whether that space works or you need to install an elevator somewhere else, I think this property could be modified to include one,” Tim replied. “Would you like to see the second floor?”
“Lead the way,” Anita said.
They backed out of the storage room. Tim led them to a partition that concealed a stairway leading to the second floor.
“Look at the beautiful carving on this banister,” Gordon said. He trained his flashlight on the wood and brushed off a thick layer of dust. “This is mahogany, for heaven’s sake. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“The stairs are extra wide too,” Anita said. “I’d still want to put in an elevator, but this would be a lovely way for visitors to get to the second floor.”
“Are the steps sound?” Gordon asked.
“They seem to be,” Tim replied. “I used them this morning.”
They climbed to the second floor and entered a room heaped with junk from floor to ceiling. The foot of a rusty iron bedstead and a molding mattress peeked out from stacks of newspapers, cardboard boxes, clothing, broken furniture, and more.
Anita gasped.
She and Gordon stood next to Tim as they surveyed the scene.
“Charlotte appeared to be a hoarder,” Tim stated.
“I had no idea,” Anita said. “This makes me so sad. I wish I had known.”
“People keep that quiet,” Tim replied. He pointed to the exposed mattress and then to an old refrigerator obscured by bags of trash. “I believe Charlotte lived up here.”
“I think you’re right,” Anita said. “I seem to remember that she resided above her shop.”
Gordon elevated his tall frame onto his tiptoes and pointed to the far wall. “It looks like there’s a door over there. Maybe that’s a bathroom.”
Tim said, “That makes sense.”
Gordon pointed to a dark stain running the length of the ceiling along the outside wall. “That’s water damage and possibly mold. I think the roof leaks.”
“I figured I’d need a new roof,” Anita said.
“If that’s mold,” Gordon said, “it’ll have to be remediated, and the plaster repaired.” He pointed to another area of the ceiling. “There’s an opening that I’d guess conceals access to the attic.”
“I’ll bet that’s where the mice or rats are,” Anita said.
As if on cue, scratching greeted her words as rodents ran from one end of the attic to the other.
“Eek,” Anita said. “I’m not going up there.”
“You won’t have to,” Tim said. “But the roofers will need to get in there. If you make an offer, we’ll include an inspection contingency in our contract. The building inspector will evaluate it.”
“Good,” Anita said. “Should we hire the inspector now? I want an estimate of the cost to make this space usable before I make an offer.”
“The building inspection comes after you open escrow,” Tim replied.
“Before we make an offer, though, you should hire someone knowledgeable about old buildings, and the cost of repairs in our area, to go through this place. I suggest Sam Torres,” Tim said.
“He’s a licensed general contractor and has experience restoring older buildings. ”
“He’s who I would ask,” Anita said.
“I talked to Sam and Jeff at the Christmas potluck,” Tim said. “They said they’d learned tons about restoration doing the Olsson House. They were kidding each other about finding another project. I think they’d both jump at the chance to work on this with you.”
Anita looked at Gordon. “What do you think?”
“I’ve been extremely impressed by Sam’s work at Rosemont.
He’d be my choice,” Gordon replied. “We still don’t know the extent of what this building needs to make it habitable,” he said.
“The bones are good. There appears to be plenty of space for your museum. We haven’t been able to see enough of the floors to determine if they can be refinished or if you’ll need to replace them.
Those wooden display cases are lovely, and would fit right in to your museum once they’re restored.
There are a lot of positives about this space,” he said.
“The key is going to be buying it for the right price. You need to make sure you have a generous budget for repairs. Sam can probably do most of the work, and he’ll know who to hire for the things he can’t.
He also knows the going rates for labor and materials in this area.
I’d hire him before putting together an offer. ”
Anita made a full turn around the room. “This space will beautifully showcase my sewing machine collection. I want to own this building and bring new life into it.”
“Sounds good,” Tim said.
The herd of rodents in the ceiling made another thundering pass to the other side of the room.
Anita crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. “Yuck.”
“Let’s get out of here and call Sam,” Tim said.
They retraced their steps to the first floor.
“What’s behind this door under the stairs?” Gordon asked.
“That’s a basement,” Tim said. “All these old buildings have them. I didn’t look down there.” He stopped walking. “Would you like to take a peek?”
“Let’s save that for Jeff and Sam,” Anita said. “I want to go through the space again after the exterminators have finished and the detritus has been hauled away.”
They stepped out the front door into the cold sunshine and ripped off their masks in unison.
Tim held out his hand. “Here. I’ll take those. We don’t want to reuse them.” He walked to a nearby trash barrel and deposited them.
Anita looked up at Gordon. “What do you think? Am I being foolish in wanting this location? Is my heart getting the better of my head?”
Gordon put his hands on each of her forearms. “What does your gut tell you?”
“That my museum belongs here.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door to the former Candy Alley. “This is where it’s meant to be.”
“Then I think you should pursue it,” he said. “Get input from Sam and Jeff and negotiate a good price. Everything we’ve seen can be fixed. It’s only a matter of money. Your offer can reflect the cost of repairs.”
Her shoulders straightened, and she stood a little taller, like a flower after a spring rain.
“Who knows?” Gordon said. “Hidden treasures may lurk inside.”
“Just like Maggie and John suggested,” Anita said. She turned to Tim. “Let’s call Sam and get the wheels in motion. The sooner I own the building, the sooner he and Jeff will have their next project.”