Chapter 19
A nita stamped her feet against the cold sidewalk to keep warm while Tim fumbled with the key.
“This old lock is cantankerous,” he said over his shoulder. “If you buy this place, one of the first things I’d do is change the lock.”
“Duly noted,” she said, trying to keep the impatience from her voice. Now that she was here, standing on the threshold, she wanted him to hurry up. The cleaning crew had replaced the brown paper covering the inside of the window. Passersby still couldn’t see into the shop. She had tried.
A small pickup truck pulled to the curb and parked. She greeted Sam and Jeff as they climbed out to join her.
The tumblers in the lock clicked into place, and Tim pushed the door open. “After you,” he said.
She bounded through the door, with Sam, Jeff, and Tim close behind. Anita walked to the middle of the room and turned in a circle, taking in the cleaned space.
“Gosh, this looks so much different,” she said. “If I close my eyes, I can imagine the magical candy store of my childhood.”
“I’d say they did a fine job,” Sam said. “Based on what Tim told us, it was a complete mess.”
“That’s an understatement,” Anita said. She pointed to the display cabinets and cash register. “I’m glad they left those, as requested.”
“The attorney said the only other things they left in place were a dozen wooden crates in the basement,” Tim added.
“What’s in them?” Anita asked.
Tim shrugged. “Don’t know. He said the owners wouldn’t tell him. They think a buyer might want the contents. If the buyer doesn’t, the seller will arrange to have them removed.”
“Have you ever heard of anybody doing that?” she asked.
“I’ve been in this business for over thirty years,” Tim said, “and this is a first for me.”
“Should I be worried about it?”
“The attorney said the sellers assured him there’s nothing hazardous or dangerous. They think the contents will be a fun surprise for someone.”
“Now I’m really intrigued,” Anita said. “Could I take a teeny peek at them when we’re in the basement?”
“I’m under strict instructions not to open them,” Tim said. “Think of it this way: when people put their houses on the market, they sometimes lock a closet and don’t let buyers see inside. They secure valuables too large for a safe deposit box. The sellers regard these crates the same way.”
Anita looked at Sam and raised her eyebrows.
He shrugged. “I don’t see any reason to worry about it. You’ve got bigger issues to deal with.” He scraped the floor with his foot. “This is beautiful old wood, but it’s badly worn from years of foot traffic. You’ll want to either refinish it or put down new flooring.”
“I definitely want to refinish it,” she said. “Visitors should feel like they’ve stepped back in time when they enter my museum. It’ll be like a journey to the past.”
“I love the sound of that,” Tim said.
“Let’s start on the second floor.” Tim moved to the partition that obscured the stairway. Once again, he handed small flashlights to each of them. “The attorney said they also removed the refrigerator up there. The door had been left open, and it had become a rodent hotel.”
“Oh gosh.” Anita pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s so revolting. I’m glad they got rid of it.”
They climbed the stairs, Jeff lagging behind to assess the integrity of the handrails and the soundness of each step.
The cleared second-floor space revealed a six-foot section of kitchen cabinets along one wall.
The door to the bathroom on the opposite wall stood open.
They each stepped into the small room that included a porcelain pedestal sink, a toilet, and a tiny cast-iron bathtub.
A medicine cabinet, its door askew on its hinges, hung above the sink.
“I thought there’d be a sink in those cabinets,” Anita pointed to them. “Since Charlotte lived up here, I’m assuming that was her kitchen.”
“She must’ve done her dishes in the bathtub,” Sam said. “People did that sort of thing in the old days.”
“I can hardly imagine,” said Anita. “Charlotte ran that candy store until she was in her mid-nineties. I hate to think of her going up and down those stairs at that age—and doing dishes in the tub.”
“I knew Charlotte longer than you did,” Sam said. “A more independent person you’ve never met. She lived how she wanted and wouldn’t have welcomed charity—or pity—from anyone.”
Anita nodded. “That’s comforting. I hate the idea of buying a place where someone was unhappy.”
“You won’t be,” Sam assured her.
Jeff joined them, having completed his inspection of the stairs. “Everything appears to be structurally sound,” he said, “but, like the flooring below, the stairs will need to be refinished.” He looked down. “This floor is in even worse shape than downstairs.”
Sam pointed to the ceiling. “Gordon was right. There’s water damage on the ceiling and along the outside wall. The plaster on the wall is dark. That has to be mold.”
“I agree,” Jeff said. “It’ll have to be torn out, and either replastered or replaced with drywall.” He looked at Anita. “Plaster will be more expensive. You’ll save money by using drywall.”
“If you install display cases along that wall, no one will know what’s behind them,” Sam added.
“That’s a good way to save money,” Anita agreed. She took a deep breath. “We know I’ll need to replace the roof, refinish the floors, remediate mold, and replace the wall up here.”
“I’d plan on replacing the wall on both floors,” Sam said.
“I want to remodel that bathroom,” Anita said, “so it can function as a public restroom. It feels unhygienic now.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “Will you install an accessible public restroom on the first floor, too?”
“Yes,” Anita said. “And I’d like to rip out the dumbwaiter and put in an elevator.”
Sam and Jeff took measurements of the existing dumbwaiter at the second-floor opening.
“That’ll work,” Sam said. “We’ll add that to our list.”
“What else?” Anita asked.
“The seller hasn’t turned the utilities back on, so we can’t test anything, but I would replace the electric knob and tube wiring,” Tim said.
“The heater and air conditioner are probably decades old, too,” Jeff said. “If they are, you’ll want new units.”
“Wow,” Anita said. “It feels like we’re going to be taking the place down to the studs and redoing everything.” She looked from Jeff to Sam, her expression glum.
“It’s always best to do things right from the get-go,” Sam said. “You’ll probably need new plumbing and a new sewer system.”
“By the time we’re done, my offer will be less than half the asking price,” Anita said. She looked at Tim. “Do you think there’s any chance they’ll accept that? Is there any point in going forward?”
Tim rested a hand between her shoulders. “If I didn’t think there was a good chance we’d be successful, we wouldn’t be here.”
“But you warned me things might not work out,” Anita said.
“I did,” Tim replied. “But only because I don’t want you to overpay.”
He looked at Sam and Jeff. “I realize you’ve only been inside for a few minutes and haven’t done a thorough inspection, but, based on your professional experience, do you think this place can be restored?”
“Absolutely,” Jeff said.
“Sure,” Sam agreed. “None of this is difficult. We faced much bigger challenges at the Olsson House.”
Jeff nodded.
“Jeff and I want to make sure you know how much money you’ll need to make that happen,” Sam added.
Anita shut her eyes and inhaled a calming breath. “Thank you for that,” she said. “When I get the numbers from you, Tim and I will put together an offer. I’ll hope for the best but be prepared for the worst. If I have to find another place for my museum, so be it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Tim said, patting her on the back.
“Let’s look at that basement,” she said. “I’m not leaving without seeing it.”
They returned to the first floor and crossed to the plain door obscuring the narrow stairs.
Using flashlights, they went down to the hard-packed dirt floor.
Someone had whitewashed the raw planks on the walls long ago.
The space was empty except for a row of wooden crates, six across and stacked two high.
Anita crossed to the crates and trained her flashlight across every inch of each one. She looked over her shoulder at Tim.
“I’m not trying to open them,” she said, “but if there’s a crack in the boards and I can see inside—well, that’s not breaking any rules.”
“I agree,” Tim said.
Tim, Jeff, and Sam added their flashlight beams to hers as they all tried to see the mysterious contents.
Anita surreptitiously brought one hand to the top of a crate and pushed it gingerly. The top remained firmly in place.
“I guess we’ll have to wait until I own this place before we find out what’s in these,” she said. “I’m so curious, I can hardly stand it.” She turned to Tim. “For heaven’s sake, don’t let me get carried away and offer too much just so I can find out what’s in these crates.”
“I promise,” Tim said. “Let’s head to my office. We can start writing the offer while Sam and Jeff work up the numbers we need.”
Jeff looked at Sam. “Judy and Joan are at book club tonight, so we’re on our own for dinner. Let’s go to Pete’s and put a pencil to all this.” He waved his hand around him.
“I was going to suggest the same thing,” Sam said.
They all stepped onto the street, and Tim locked the door.
“We’ll email you our suggestions by the end of the evening,” Sam said. “That way, you can make your offer first thing in the morning.”
Anita clasped her hands and brought them to her chest. “Thank you so much for dropping everything to help me. I know it’ll be a daunting task to whip this place into shape, but, if anyone can do it, it’s you. I’ve got a wonderful feeling about what’s to come.”